


The devil's favourite

by elisa_anya



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Hunter Dean Winchester, M/M, Magic, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Mentions of Murder, Mentions of alcoholism, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Witch Castiel (Supernatural), mentions of depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:42:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 40
Words: 264,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26569756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisa_anya/pseuds/elisa_anya
Summary: Ominous nightmares haunt the young half-witch Castiel, but it’s alright, there’s no real danger, no apocalypse coming, as long as the door to Hell remains closed. The door is securely protected in the secret bunker of the Men of Letters which can only be opened with the blood of their funding members. With the Campbells dead and Mary Winchester’s children gone a long time ago, there’s no way to even get to the door Gabriel’s been trying to open for years to free their family. At least that is until Dean Winchester shows up at their door, all smiles and ignorant bliss. Dean is desperate to belong somewhere and put down some roots while Cas, on the other hand, sees the Winchesters’ very presence as a threat to his town and the world itself. Will Castiel succeed in driving them away or will Dean find out what his childhood best friend is first?
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel & Kali (Supernatural), Gabriel/Kali (Supernatural), brief Bela Talbot/Dean Winchester
Comments: 128
Kudos: 110





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am so excited to share this with you, it's been my quarantine project.  
> The story doesn’t include half of what I actually learned about occultism and witchcraft but it was very fun to research! I totally recommend it. I mention some real books and spells, I took inspiration from here and there for others. This story is also going to include art and gifs, I will credit the authors where I can but sadly I don’t know them all (I found loads of pictures and gifs randomly in the internet and Pinterest and haven’t been able to find their origin) so if you recognise one please let me know so we can proper credit those authors. Anyway, just wanted to say there are some dark art pictures and gifs but none of them are really disturbing or particularly scary. There will be mentions of violence in the future, I will write a warning at the start of the chapter when that happens.  
> Full disclosure, I don’t actually believe in anything magic-supernatural-religion related but damn it’s cool to read about. Also, the depiction of a witch or satanism here is not a faithful one—this is fiction, this is a story. I just took concepts and ideas from history and online resources.  
> I will be updating every few days, the updates will happen regularly as I have actually already finished writing the story (I just need time to edit the chapters).  
> Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> P.S.: In my mind this fic was always called Castiel the teenage witch as a joke.

**PART ONE: THE RETURN OF THE WINCHESTERS**

Castiel’s eyes fly open as he wakes up with a start, sweating and breathing hard. The sheets beneath him are wet, the shirt he sleeps in sticks to his skin. It’s summer but it’s not that hot, a cool morning breeze comes through the window. He sits up and brings a hand to his chest, feeling his heart racing out of control. He swallows through the lump on his throat, trying to calm down, trying to forget the nightmares. He takes his shirt off and throws in off the side of the bed.

“Castiel…?” His grandmother comes in and kneels by his bed, concern in her eyes. “Are you okay, darling? Did you have nightmares again?”

The boy nods and tries to catch his breath. “They’re getting more frequent.”

“Do you want me to get Gabriel?”

Cas glanced at the watch on the wall; it’s not even 6 am, his brother will kill him if he wakes him up. 

“No, it’s fine…”

“You’ve had them all summer, darling. Maybe you should see a doctor?”

She’s worried, he is too but not for himself. The nightmares feel like more than just bad dreams, there’s something about them that is like a premonition, a warning. It’s not the same dream every time but they usually revolve around the same topics: hell, fire, death, destruction and suffering. In other words, what humans call the apocalypse. The nightmares are so goddamn realistic too. The heat, the smell of burning flesh, the damned souls screaming and evil creatures dancing to the sound, he remembers all of it like it’s a memory he can’t escape. Destruction and death everywhere, taking from him that which he loves; his town, his friends, his home.

The worst part is, in these dreams he doesn’t seem to care. He’s seen himself plenty of times acting as a calm spectator, a man in peace with himself who watches his surroundings with an almost sense of accomplishment as the world around him crumbles to the ground. Just this morning he walked this hollow land in his mind, undisturbed, as if he were taking a stroll in the beach, finding nothing wrong with the skulls he stepped on or the spirits that perched on naked trees doing their best impression of hungry vultures waiting for a piece of meat. Somehow, Castiel knew the desolation was partly his own doing and, in an even stranger way, he didn’t feel bad about it at all. He felt invincible and fearless. He felt so powerful, nothing else seemed to matter. He walks through the Valley of Dry Bones like he enjoys the view, like they deserved what they got.

When he awakes, the whole thing makes him sick even though he can still sense the tingling sensation of powerful magic buzzing under his skin. It’s almost arousing. A memory he’s not yet made but he’s bound to live, that’s what it all feels like.

“I don’t think a doctor can help me with this, grandma.”

It’s the last day of the summer holidays. He should be relaxing and sleeping in while he can before the classes resume, but the truth is he’s been rather restless all summer with these unsettling nightmares haunting him more often than he’d liked. Alerted by them, he kept an eye open for anything weird or out of the ordinary during his vacations but so far nothing’s happened and there are no signs of evil creatures of any kind taking residence in his town. For anyone else, it was just another perfect summer of long days relaxing by the lake or hanging out in the mall, and even longer nights partying and chasing summer flings. Of course Castiel is grateful that the peace continues as it has for many years, he had a great time with his friends and he will treasure those moments forever, but he can’t help but shake the feeling that something is coming, something he’s going to have to face sooner rather than later.

He gives up on sleeping and takes a long shower. He tiptoes around the house, trying to avoid the floorboards that squeak and makes his way downstairs. He makes a French toast, grabs some strawberries from the fridge and a glass of milk, then sits outside on the porch to eat. It’s a lovely day, clear blue skies with a nice freeze going. Everything is normal, everything is great… and still, his eyes skim over the large property his family has owned for centuries almost expecting to find something unusual. It’s ridiculous though, a powerful magic protects his home, practically nothing can harm them there. The woods in their land stretch for acres, the house at the centre of it secluded by vegetation of all sorts with a small opening for the gates by the one and only road that leads up to the house. It’s their own little world of magic, obviously haunted but very beautiful still, not at all scary... if you’re a witch. The townsfolk won’t say the same though.

A crow flies straight towards Castiel and lands on his knee. The young witch smiles and pets his familiar affectionately.

“Good morning, Seir.”

The crow caws a reply. Cas offers him a piece of toast which the bird rather gently takes from his hand. He pets him again, slowly, admiring the animal he loves. Seir is well, so are Gabe and his friends and everyone else in town. Well, except maybe Garth go broke up with his girlfriend over the holidays but he'll get over it. Castiel takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and exhales slowly.

“All is good,” he tells Seir. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

He has the irrational belief that if he just makes it until tomorrow, when the classes begin again, nothing bad will happen, as if the forces of evil that may be out there plotting against his little town will be too polite to mess with his education to cause any kind of trouble once Cas goes back to school. He knows this to be stupid and untrue but he still holds onto his weak belief _._

The early morning is quiet and uneventful, he hears nothing but the early birds signing and the sound of leaves rustling as the wind blows through the trees. Cas goes back inside and stands in the wide entrance hall, feeling the seconds tick by, unsure of what to do with himself next. He is restless and anxious. He wishes Gabe would get up already so they can go to the library and try the new spell his older brother found. Castiel is not convinced it's going to work, nothing ever does, but he really admires Gabriel's determination to keep trying and he really wants to do something other than dwell on his nightmares.

The brothers have been trying for years to open the door to the bunker off the Men of Letters, unsuccessfully of course. Behind that door there is another one, a more important one; the passage between two worlds, that of the humans and that of supernatural beings like the Novaks are. On the other side of the door lives their entire family, their father, brothers and some other siblings Castiel has only ever heard of, plus all their family friends and allies. Not only witches reside there but also vampires, ghosts, demons and many other creatures. It is Hell, or at least that is what humans call it; Gabriel calls it home, for the most part. 

Both doors have been closed for as long as Castiel can remember, ever since he was a little boy. The door to the bunker can only be opened with the blood of a member of the Men of Letters and the door to Hell is locked with a key. That is common knowledge the brothers are painfully aware of and yet his family has been trying for years to find another way to open the doors. With the Campbells and Mary's children, the last members of the Men of Letter in town, gone a long time ago and no willing current members of the order from other locations to ask blood from, Castiel has no hope of opening the door but his father and brothers refuse to give up. And even if they could open the door of the bunker by some miracle, the key to Hell disappeared a long time ago. Castiel doesn’t want to think about that, about the key and everything they lost with it, it brings him pain and unsettling questions that have no answers.

It’s not that Castiel doesn't want to open the door to Hell. He wants to see his father and meet the siblings he’s only ever seen through the magic mirror, he wants to travel the land of the unknown and practise magic that is too powerful to be learned in the human world without risking hurting someone or being exposed as a witch. He wishes he could do all of that and more but he’s used to the fact that he can’t, the passage has been closed for as long as he can remember and absolutely nothing they’ve ever tried has allowed them to move a single step closer to success. Castiel lost hope many years ago and is by now used to speaking to his father through the magic mirror he had gifted his human wife while she lived. It’s just the way things are.

However, he keeps this lack of faith to himself and indulges his brother whenever he proposes a new spell they could try to break through the door to the bunker. He feels sorry for Gabriel and, in all honesty, responsible for his entrapment in the human world. The older witch, who will be turning 142 years old soon, looks only 38 in human standards. Even though that’s not old at all, he’s already older in mortal years than his own father. Every year he spends on Earth, he grows old at the same rate as mortals and he comes closer and closer to death. 17 long years Gabriel has spent on this side of the portal, ever since he came to meet his baby brother Castiel, half-mortal half-witch, when he was born. Cas knows Gabriel longs to return to Hell, his true home, and hates growing old. He doesn’t resent Gabe for it, nor does he take it personally. After all, Gabriel did raise him and has taken care of him all his life, a loving brother pushed into the position of guardian from one day to the other when Castiel’s mother died and the gate to Hell closed.

Feeling nostalgic, Cas goes into the library. There are books scattered all over the floor, Gabriel was probably up all night doing research. Castiel huffs in annoyance and with a swift movement of his hand the books all levitate and follow him through the hidden fake wall at the further right corner of the room. This library, full of _normal_ books and decoration, is meant to be a disguise in case a mortal came into the house (not that they ever get visits, but just in case), but their _real_ library is hidden from the public. It’s a large room with everything they need for witchcraft, a room that Gabriel has been nurturing for years, collecting anything and everything he can get his hands on that may someday be useful. All kinds of weird things are in there, at least weird for mortals, like books about magic, rituals and history of the occult and of their family as well, and carefully labelled flasks and curse boxes containing ingredients for spells or powerful magic objects. In the middle of the room there is a table with a pentagram painted white on top and a few chairs around it, and on a wall, surrounded by all types of skulls, is a magic mirror, identical to the one in Castiel’s room. Rather big and oval-shaped, the golden frame is decorated with two snakes intertwined with each other and the frame. It’s enchanted, Castiel knows, so that the snakes will attack anyone who tries to break the mirror.

“Let there be light,” Castiel whispers and the candles in the room become alive with fire. 

Castiel stands in front of the mirror and says the words he’s repeated a hundred times during his lifetime, the simple spell that allows him to see things he’s forgotten.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, show me a memory of love.”

His reflection dissolves from the surface of the glass and instead he sees his parents in perfect detail, laying on their bed with a newborn Castiel between them. His mother is sleeping, so is the baby, but his father is awake. He doesn’t look a day past 35, and he doesn’t either to date; in Hell, he’s barely aged at all. His mother has a hand over Castiel’s round belly and his father an arm around her. He watches her with a soft smile on his lips and love in his eyes. He loves her. He loves her so much, he confessed to his son once, he had been planning to stay in the mortal world with her forever because he couldn’t bear the thought of his wife growing old without him and he knew she’d never agree to give her soul away to the Devil to be welcomed into Hell. But then the gates closed with him on the wrong side of it, she died, and everything changed.

Cas reaches out to touch the mirror. He doesn’t know how to feel, he’s torn between longing and resentment. He can’t remember his mother, he only knows what the mirror shows him, but he can’t help but love her and feel loved by her nonetheless. It’s because he does that her betrayal burns much deeper. Why did she give away the key to Hell? She was supposed to protect it, to guard the gate so that Castiel’s father could come back and settle on Earth with her upon his return from Hell. How could she have given it to Mary Winchester, another traitor to the witches she had sworn to be at peace with? Castiel’s mother knew she’d die if she broke the vow of loyalty to the Novaks, to her husband, and Mary also knew there would be a price to pay if she broke the peace treaty. So why did they both turn their backs on the family that had loved them and welcomed them? Why did they make a combined effort to close the door? Why did they make Cas practically an orphan?

As Castiel retreats his fingers, the image in the glass fades away. The young witch sighs and sits at the table. Reluctantly he grabs the book Gabriel left on the table the night before and goes over the spell they’re trying today again. 

“Closer,” he tells the octopus candelabrum in the middle of the table, which comes to life and carefully moves closer to him.

As he reads, Cas rolls his eyes and runs a hand through his hair. It's not going to work, it’s just _obvious_ that it’s not going to work. The spell, which requires a blood sacrifice as proof of loyalty, is supposed to weaken a spell casted by a friend. But when the Men of Letters built the bunker, they weren’t allies to the Novaks yet, they just meant to guard the gate to Hell. Even if later on the Novaks and the Campbells signed a peace treaty, Mary Winchester betrayed them, breaking the bond of friendship they had created, so this spell can’t work, it just can’t, their families aren't allies anymore.

“Dad and Gabe are getting desperate,” Castiel mumbles to himself.

Even though he knows it will fail, Castiel still practises the spell. He memorizes the words and prepares the ingredients they’ll need to take with them. Gabriel cooked him meals for over 10 years and took him to school every day, he held Castiel when he cried and asked for his parents, he taught him all he knew about magic and immediately forgave him every time Castiel’s magic got out of hand and caused trouble or even pain for him. He’s always been there for Cas so if he has to put on a show for his brother, he will. It’s the least he can do.

When his brother wakes up, his grandmother comes to tell him. She says Castiel should tell him about the nightmares, but Gabriel always waves his concerns off and tells him all witches have weird dreams like that from time to time. Usually, it’s nothing. It’s the _usually_ part that worries Castiel; what if just this one time something actually happens? Castiel’s grandmother, his mother’s mother, tends to worry about everything related to magic since it’s so unfamiliar to her, while Gabriel is carefree and, quite frankly, sometimes a bit excited to get into trouble. When he was little his brother used to tell Castiel all about his adventures in Hell, using them as bedtime stories because he refused to read Winnie the Pooh or something more appropriate like that to him like a normal mortal parent would. Cas guesses Gabe just misses the excitement, he’d love a bit of an apocalypse to use his magic unapologetically again.

Gabe takes his time to make an appearance but now that he is no longer sleeping Castiel is free to make noise and play the piano, bewitching it to help him play the notes he has trouble hitting with his left hand. As soon as Gabriel walks by the room on his way downstairs, he points towards the piano to stop the spell Cas had cast. Loki, a black venomous snake and his familiar, calmly rests on his shoulders. It’s a tamed creature from Hell that obeys the witch’s every order.

“Don’t be lazy, Cas,” his brother tells him, “you’ll never learn like that.”

“I’d learn much better with a tutor,” Cas retorts.

Gabriel snorts. “Let me know if you find one that is willing to teach you.” 

The one and only really good piano teacher in town is a disgruntled lady over 60, deeply religious but in the bad way. She happens to be convinced that there’s something wrong with the Novaks. She’s not wrong, to be fair, but she has no real reason to fear or dislike them, she’s just an awful person.

“You’re up early again. Are you excited to start school tomorrow, you nerd?”

Cas shrugs. That’s not why he’s up, but honestly yes, he _is_ excited to start school again. He likes the normalcy of it all and seeing his friends every day. 

“I like school, it takes my mind off things.”

Gabe huffs a laugh and pats his shoulder on the way to the kitchen. “As if a 17 years old had a lot of things to worry about.”

His grandmother gives him a look from her place by the window but Cas keeps quiet. He goes back to their secret room and prepares an old leather suitcase with everything they’re going to need. While taking a quick look at Gabriel’s diary in which the witch listed all the spells that failed to open the door of the bunker, he stops for a second to look at the sketch of the key to Hell. A rustic old brass thing with a skull on top, simple and quite cliche, easy enough to recognise. If it works they will have to search the bunker for the key top to bottom, inch by inch. It would have been smart to leave the key inside the bunker, it would be safe there, but somehow Castiel always thought it would have been too easy, too predictable. No, Mary left the key somewhere else out there in the world, out of their reach, he’s convinced of it.

When Gabe is ready, they take off together in their car. Castiel’s Victorian home might be old fashioned and suspended on time ever since his parents’ departure, but Gabriel likes modern and expensive things. They head out in that stupid flashy car Cas hates, the iron gates opening for them on their own as they approach the road. They drive through the long path surrounded by trees that gives their house the seclusion that all witches desire, until they join the main route and make their way to town. It’s a twenty minutes drive that Cas spends in silence trying not to let his lack of enthusiasm show in his face, looking out the window while Gabriel mumbles the words of the spell to himself. The brothers park right outside the library, an old and beautiful building in the heart of town, a facade the Campbells built for the bunker of the Men of Letters that hides below. They walk confidently in, greeting a few acquaintances here and there. Both of them know the place inside out, they head together to the basement where there is a section with rare books on history, lore, religion and even occultism. This is a part of the library people rarely ever visit, a dark corner protected with magic that repels regular mortals, to keep the members of the order away from prying eyes. At the end of a small maze of bookshelves is a heavy metal, uninviting-looking door. The brothers cross it, like they have a dozen times, and lock the door behind them with a bar. They’re in a small, slightly cold room, finally standing in front of the solid wooden gate to the bunker. In the front of the doors there’s a rock gargoyle-head hole, the one in which Cas will have to stick his hand to give the blood sacrifice to activate the mechanisms that will open the thick door. He’s seen it many times but never before has he tried to stick his hand on it. Looking at it now makes him kind of nervous as if the thing might come to life and take a bite out of his hand for attempting to fool it.

“You know the drill, Cas,” Gabe says as he opens the suitcase on the ground and starts preparing everything, mixing all the ingredients in a goblet. “You’re the most powerful out of the two of us so I’ll help you but you’ll have to make the blood offering.”

Cas takes a deep breath, fingertips trailing down the gargoyle head. “Yes, I know… So it will pinch me, right?”

“Yeah, no need to cut yourself or anything. It’ll just be a little pinch in your finger.”

The youngest Novak purses his lips and attempts a careless smile. He looks back at the gargoyle head and prays to Satan the thing won’t eat his hand or something.

A pentagram drawn in chalk inside a circle, candles lit around it, a goblet in the centre, and they’re almost ready. From between the pages of his notebook Gabriel produces a photograph. Castiel leans in to see; it’s an old picture of his mother and Mary Winchester, with their boys who are giggling at one another while absolutely ignoring the camera. He resists the urge to scoff as Gabe places the photograph at the foot of the goblet and holds the book in his hand while he kneels on the edge of the pentagram. 

“Ready?” 

Cas takes his position in front of the gargoyle. He gives it one last pleading look before he turns his head around and nods. Gabriel gives his brother a quick wink of an eye before he focuses on the book again and together they start chanting the spell.

_Friend of mine, hear me from a distance,_

_the spell you cast must fade from existence._

_Help me lift this curse of yours, I pay the price though I'm no foe._

_My intentions I swear are good and no betrayal will come to you._

_Friend of mine, hear me from a distance._

_Renounce your magic and show no resistance._

They repeat the words over and over again until they can feel the air growing thick and charged with that powerful feeling that can only be described as magic in action. The half-mortal can feel the energy running through his veins and he can’t help but admit that he likes it. It’s exhilarating, almost intoxicating, feeling the strength building up in him like it only does when he practises his magic. The surface of his skin buzzes with the sensation, he feels charged and electrified. As their voices rise together, Castiel moves towards the gargoyle head. He touches it for a moment and to his surprise, it does seem to be buzzing as well, as if it could recognise the magic that was being invoked. For a second Cas’ heart skips a beat and he wonders what if it works this time? He swallows hard through the thick lump on his throat. What if the door _actually_ opens? And, also...what if they _shouldn’t_ open it?

But he can’t turn back now, not with Gabe watching over his shoulder.

Castiel puts his hands through the hole inside the gargoyle’s mouth and waits. The entire door shakes. Something touches him, something pinches the tip of his finger. He startles slightly although it doesn’t really hurt. The brothers stay quiet for a second, waiting for the magic to kick in and the bunker to recognise Castiel’s blood as worthy of passing through.

Nothing happens.

“Gabe, I don’t think it-”

Something like a dozen different sharp teeth dig into Castiel’s skin at the same time, ripping it painfully as he is too slow to pull his arm out completely before he is out of harm’s way. Whatever it is, it claws at his skin as he extracts his arm out of the hole, exposing the lacerated skin that starts bleeding profusely, blood dripping down onto the floor. Castiel cries out in pain as he jumps backwards, stumbles into the goblet and falls on his ass to the floor, his movement causing the candles around the pentagram to go out. He holds the wrist of his injured arm with a shaky hand as he lifts it to see the damage. In shock he watches the exposed flesh and all the blood, his stomach twisting in knots.

Gabriel is there by his side in the blink of an eye, muttering healing spells in a hurry while he covers his brother’s arm with his hands. Castiel tries to stay still when his impulses tell him to pull away, but seconds afterwards a dim blue light muffled by Gabriel’s hands tells him the magic has kicked in. When the older witch retreats his hand, the injury, although still open and bleeding, looks much less serious and feels less painful.

Still shaking from the unexpected fright, Castiel lets Gabriel pull him to his feet.

“Come on, Cas, I’ll take you to a doctor. I can’t heal all of it, the magic is too strong.”

“A doctor?” Castiel repeats, trying to swallow through the lump on his throat and steady his voice. His heart beats so fast it may jump out of his ribcage. “What are we going to say happened, exactly?”

“Dog bite or something, I’ll come up with something on the way. Come on!”

Gabriel barely has the sense to throw their things back on the suitcase before he is dragging Castiel out of the library, muttering a spell under his breath to keep people from noticing them too much. It’s a long, tense wait at the emergency room but the doctor doesn’t ask many questions when they say a dog attacked Cas and he is able to take the stitches that are needed here and there pretty well without complaining too much, so they call it a day and they head back home. To say Gabriel looks crestfallen is an understatement and even though Castiel feels terrible for it, even though his arm is swollen and in pain, he can’t help but feel glad the door is still closed. Once again, everything is normal, as it must be. They’re no closer to opening the gate to Hell, thus no evil creatures are closer to coming out. Witches may be creatures of the night, children of the Devil, but Cas is mortal as well and he will protect his realm if it’s the last thing he does.

Gabriel pulls the car over, turns the ignition off and sits back on his seat for a moment, staring out the window into the impressive building that is their home.

“I’m so sorry, Cas,” he apologizes. “If I’d thought you’d get hurt, I would have never-”

“It’s okay, Gabe. It doesn’t hurt that much anymore, the drugs really helped.”

“No, it’s not okay. I’m supposed to protect you, not put you in danger.” Gabriel shakes his head and sights, looking up at the house. Their home. “Maybe it’s time to give up.”

Castiel’s lips part and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Give up? And stay here _permanently_?”

His brother shrugs. “This was my home before you were born, you know? I didn't stay here a lot, but still. Our family had owned this place long before it was even your mother’s time. It was a special place for dad, it is a special place for you too. _This_ is your home. I might as well admit it is mine too.”

The blue-eyed boy looks down, stewing in guilt. Maybe if he would have tried harder, if he hadn’t hesitated at the end, perhaps the spell would have worked…

“Just… don’t show the injury to dad, okay? He’ll worry. But I promise it’ll be fine.”

Castiel nods.

“I’m sorry, Gabe.”

Gabriel ruffles his hair before getting out of the car as he says, “it isn’t your fault, Cas.”

Castiel stays in the car for another minute before he finds it in him to get out. He knows his father will be expecting news soon but he doesn’t want to go into the house yet. He circles it instead and wanders into the woods in the back, walking through the thick vegetation until he finds the stone bench where the statue of his mother sits. Cas hates it, finds it slightly morbid; this is the body of his mother turned to stone after all, but he can’t help but go to it sometimes when he longs for her the most. He barely remembers hers, it’s more of a feeling of deep, incomparable love what remains of her inside him rather than actual memories. She sits there, forever, looking to the side, stretching a hand to touch someone as she looks at that person with a sad smile on her face. Cas sits next to her and looks into her eyes, pretending she can see him. He stretches his hand towards hers, the tip of his fingers running over the cold stone that hers are made of.

He’s heard the explanation a dozen times, of why she ended up the way she did, but he can’t quite wrap his mind around it. As a mortal marrying a witch, she made a vow of loyalty in her wedding day, to never tell the world what the Novaks were and to never turn her back on them, her new family. She knew the consequences of breaking that vow and still gave the key away knowing Mary Winchester would lock most of the Novaks away forever in Hell when she closed the door. Why did she do that if she was so in love with her husband? He swears he doesn’t know and has always told Castiel not to resent her for she must have had a very good reason to do what she did… but it’s hard sometimes when there’s no explanation to such a devastating treason.

"Mom," he starts but he finds he's lost for words. He doesn't know what to say to her, doesn't even know how to feel. He loves her but it'd be so much easier to hate her. Instead, with a heavy sigh, he stands up and walks back to the house slowly. 

Inside Gabriel is starting to do their lunch. Cas knows he'll want his space so he goes to the library. Their father will be expecting a report from that morning's events. Standing in front of the magic mirror, keeping his injured hand behind his back, he says the same phrase he always uses to talk to father.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall, Charles Novak I need to call."

His reflection fades away and instead he sees the same dark room that he always sees, his father's chamber. He's not at his desk, but candles are lit and there's a cup of something hot and steamy waiting for him next to a book on his desk. Outside the windows it's pitch dark except for a strange reddish glow at a distance. Castiel tries to see further into the distance but it's too far. It always seems to be so dark in the other realm, Castiel has always been curious about it but he figures he would miss the sun eventually. 

“Dad?”

“Castiel?”

His father’s voice comes from a short distance and a few seconds later Charles Novak comes into view. He looks barely older than when he left Earth, the magic of the other realm keeping him young and strong. Mr Novak smiles a little tiredly at his son but he is happy to see him, as usual. Cas has a hard time returning his smile that morning. 

“Hello, dad. How are you?” 

“I’m fine, I’m fine, but never mind me. How was it, how did the spell go? Did it help at all?”

His father, just as Gabriel, hopelessly insists in keeping faith that the door can be reopened one day. Castiel can’t say he knows what it’s like to have a son growing up away from you against your will, but if it feels anything like being ripped apart from your parents he thinks he can begin to imagine it. They stand in front of each other, staring at one another through the mirror, and this is the closest they can get.

Cas shakes his head from side to side in silence, lost for words, feeling the wounds get itchy and warm on his arm. 

His father’s face falls. “Not even a little? It didn’t weaken the door at all?”

“No. I don’t know why you and Gabe thought it would work, the Campbells are obviously not our allies.”

“Well, son, with that attitude of course it wasn’t going to work,” his father counters, an edge of disapproval and annoyance in his words. “The spell calls for a friend’s aid. If you don’t see them as your friends you can’t channel the proper energy.”

Cas rolls his eyes. He doesn’t understand how his family still sustains the Campbells, or any Men of Letters, are their allies. They’re all traitors that turned their backs on them. “The _proper_ energy? What does that even mean?”

“Love, Castiel. Love is a powerful source of magic. Even for Satanists like us.”

The young witch can’t help scoffing like the angry teen he is. “ _Love_ ? Towards _hunters_?”

“They’ve been our allies for generations. Our _friends_. Do you not remember Dean at all? You two were joint at the hip. You used to say Mary Winchester was your second mom.”

“No, dad, I don’t remember him or her, and given that his mother trapped you in another realm, I have a hard time thinking of her as an _ally,_ let alone a friend. They betrayed us.”

“That’s only one way of seeing things,” his father insists, raising his voice just in the slightest. 

“No, dad, it’s a _fact_!” Castiel retorts, his tone going over his father’s. “Look what love got us. You trusted the wrong people, I’m sorry but I won’t make the same mistake.”

Mr Novak narrows his eyes at his son, his face slowly turning red in anger.

“Are you talking about your mother?” he says through gritted teeth. “Don’t you _dare_ speak ill of your mother.”

“Why did you give her the key?” Castiel blurts out, throwing his arms out angrily. The lights flicker, he completely ignores it; it happens, sometimes, when his emotions run wild, his magic slips out of him accidentally and it causes strange things to happen. “Why did _you_ even have it in the first place? Wasn’t it supposed to be guarded by Samuel Campbell? Did you take it from him? So much for allies, dad.”

“Don’t you question me, _boy_!”

The fire in the candles in his father’s room burn taller and brighter, red reflecting in his father’s eyes like there’s fire burning on them too. Even through the mirror he vibrates and exudes power. But his eyes soften all of a sudden when he sees the bandages around Castiel’s arm, little stains of blood tainting the otherwise perfect white.

After taking a calming breath, he explains to his son, “he entrusted it to me during a dangerous hunt, for safekeeping. That’s how much faith there was between our families.”

“Why would he give it to you? Why not his daughter?”

“Mary wanted out of the life, you know that. She didn’t want to have anything to do with hunting or the bunker,” Charles shrugs, leaning against the desk behind him. “Those were complicated times, there was a lot going on… After Samuel died, Mary never asked me to give it back. By then I was back in our realm and I gave your mother the key. I knew it would be safe in our home. It was supposed to be just a few days…”

He trails off and stares at the distance for a moment, gaze lost. He looks so vulnerable for a moment, Cas can almost read his mind, see his father thinking of his wife with a longing that eats him alive. Castiel’s heart aches at the sight. Even after so many years, Charles is still irrevocably in love with his wife.

“I need to know why she did it,” Castiel shares with his father in a barely audible voice. Not knowing is torture.

His father gives him a sympathetic smile that is all shades of sad. “I do too, my boy, but until we do you need to have more faith in your mother. Whatever she did was out of love. I _know_ she loved me and she loved you, you were her entire world. You were the sun and we were two planets hopelessly gravitating around you. If she closed that door she must have had a good reason.”

Tears blur Castiel’s vision at Mr Novak’s soft words. He’s seen the memories, he’s felt the love, but his father is rarely so vocal about it. Castiel grits his teeth and averts his eyes, not wanting his dad to see him cry. 

Cas runs a hand through his hair, trying to blink the tears away. He shrugs, then dares to finally speak what’s been on his mind for a long time. “If she had a good reason to close it, should we be trying to open it again?”

Mr Novak is quiet for a long moment. Castiel looks up eventually and finds the expression in his father’s father completely unreadable. He regrets the words immediately but at the same time he can’t help but think about his nightmares. Perhaps his mother was right, perhaps she was trying to stop something from coming, something that now is haunting him.

“Have your nightmares continued?” 

Castiel nods; there’s no point hiding it, he’s complained about them all summer. 

“I can’t promise your nightmares won’t come true and I can’t confirm they’re proper prophecies either, but you’re my son, Castiel. You and Gabriel, you’re there on the other side. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to get you boys back home.”

Not without some hesitation, his father reaches out to touch the mirror with a hand. Castiel reaches out too, just as he did as a child, when he pretended he could touch his father through the mirror while Gabriel held him in his arms because Cas couldn’t reach the mirror by himself. He doesn’t know whether he could call the other realm his home but he can’t deny what he’s always wanted is on the other side; a family, a real family with numerous siblings and a father and a lot of people he’s never even met. Loud, crowded congregations of Novaks, family tales, a hug from his father.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t open the door, dad.”

The other man does a one arm shrug and smiles, forgiving everything on the spot. “It’s okay. I’ll keep looking in the library, hopefully I’ll find something more promising.”

Cas takes a deep breath and nods, letting his hand fall slowly. _Another spell? When will they have enough?_

“Well, you know where to find us when you do.”

“Go, now, my boy. Go enjoy your last day of summer! And tomorrow tell me all about your last first day of school.”

They smile at each other but it’s forced on both ends. As his dad turns away, the image in the mirror changes into a simple reflection. Cas stays in the dark room a little longer, just going through spell books without paying much attention to anything in particular, until his brother calls him for lunch. Gabe tries to keep some light conversation going between them, but Castiel doesn’t feel like talking a lot. He’s honestly just looking forward to the day to end and the classes to begin. The sooner he goes back to pretending he’s a normal, mortal student, the better. More homework, less researching how to open the gate to Hell… Satan forgive him, but that’ll ease Castiel’s mind for sure.

After lunch Gabriel heads back to town to handle some business. He owns several candy stores around the country but takes residence for the most part in their family home, to care for Castiel. Home alone and buzzing with light anxiety born out of impatience, Castiel feels like cleaning and getting ready for the next day. He washes his clothes, makes the laundry bag following him up the stairs and folds them, three pieces at a time, with magic. He organizes his entire wardrobe, bringing the nicer clothes he wears to school towards the front. 

Little by little, Castiel relaxes. His grandmother watches out the window in serene silence, he finds her presence calming, comforting. The window is open, a nice breeze makes the curtains dance. All is good, he tells himself, and tomorrow it will be even better.

His school supplies are in order, packed and ready for the next day on his backpack. His art supplies are all over his desk, but that’s an eternal mess that is not even worth trying to tidy up, Cas can never keep them in order. He puts his spells and potions books back on the shelves of the walls, empties the pockets of his jeans that are full of receipts from Charlie’s favourite milkshake place, stops to smile at the photos of his friends on his desk. His room is almost perfectly tidy, for some reason it makes his head feel clearer, less anxious. The young witch looks around the bedroom with a satisfied smile, his hands on his hips.

“I think this is the tidiest my room has ever been, wouldn’t you say, grandma?”

She looks up, startled for a second, as if she had forgotten of his presence. She spaces out like that sometimes, it gives Cas the feeling that she’s fading away, her _mind_ is fading away… but he doesn’t comment on it, he doesn’t want to address it himself.

“Yes, my dear, I’m quite impressed.”

It’s still early in the afternoon but Castiel feels like he’s won already. Apart from getting attacked by a door, the day has been completely normal. Well, as normal as it goes for his family what with talking to his father through a magic mirror and hanging out with his grandmother’s ghost. _Normal is just a point of view,_ Gabriel always says. Sure, the bittersweet talk with his dad is still on the back of his mind but things are as good as they can get for him. 

He takes a book of short ghost stories from the _normal_ library, a bowl of cherries and walks out to the front of the house. He sits on the steps of the porch like he had in the morning, waiting for Seir to come back, and starts reading. It’s hot, but if he stays still and let’s the breeze soothe him, the temperature is bearable. He’s really getting into the story, finally getting to the middle and last part where things get really interesting, when Seir suddenly crashes into him.

Castiel startles, falls back and holds the bird in his hands.

“For Satan’s sake, Seir, be careful!” 

The bird caws in his face, a little upset by the looks of it if the young witch can say he knows his familiar enough to be able to tell when a bird is upset, and then takes off again towards the gates in a hurry. Castiel stares after him, shaken up. He sits there wondering what the hell has just happened but he doesn’t have to think for long, the reason for his friend’s warning manifests itself only a few minutes later. He hears the engine first, a very loud, disrupting thing, before the car that goes with it is finally visible parking in front of the gates. 

Castiel jumps to his feet, frowning in confusion. 

“Visits? It can’t be,” he mutters to himself, because their property is enchanted, has been for as long as it’s been theirs, to keep mortals and their prying eyes away. It’s supposed to repel them, to make them feel wary just like the spell that protects the entrance to the Men of Letters bunker. This person, whoever it is that is parking outside the iron gates, should have turned back out of an irresistible impulse to get away the moment they entered his family’s grounds.

From the distance he sees him, a tall young man getting out of the car. He waves at him from a distance, smiling if Castiel’s eyes don’t deceive him.

It’s unusual. _Extremely_ unusual...

Castiel doesn’t want anything unusual to happen, not now, not today.

He’s frozen in place, watching the stranger wait for him to react, but Castiel simply stands there helplessly praying the intruder will get bewitched any moment now and they will feel a compelling need to escape these grounds. Instead of that, he starts to open the gates himself, something which no mortal should be able to do because they should be locked for them as if the Novaks would have turned a key on them.

“Hey! Is this the Novak’s?” the boy his age shouts from the distance as he walks towards him. Even in the summer heat, he’s wearing jeans and a flannel shirt.

He’s so handsome, it distracts Castiel for just the tiniest second. Dirty blond hair, just perfect facial features. He walks with confidence, sporting the most perfect smile on his face. Not even his bowlegs can be held against him. A devil in disguise, Cas thinks, because this seemingly friendly person is trouble personified walking towards him.

“You must be Castiel!” he says rather excitedly, then laughs in a friendly manner. “Oh, man, you look just the same as the pictures but, well, taller.”

“Who are you?” Castiel shouts back.

“I’m Dean! Dean Winchester. My mom, Mary, she was your mom’s best friend. Is she around? I’d love to meet her.”

Castiel spirals into a panic in an instant, his stomach drops to the floor. A Winchester! A Winchester is back in town! That's trouble waiting to sprout. If Gabriel sees him— if they open the doors—

He could finally see his family. Meet the rest of his brothers for real and not just through a mirror. He could travel the other realm with his father, see a hundred new things. He could live under Satan’s rule for hundreds of years, barely aging. He could have so much power, he could do amazing things, perform incredible spells... 

But the nightmares, the nightmares _are_ a warning, he is sure now if he wasn’t before, he _knows_ it in his soul just like his father knows his mother must have had a valid reason to close the gates. The constant warnings that haunted him all summer and the return of the Winchesters to their quiet little town cannot be a coincidence, something’s coming. Dean’s presence ruins everything, the balance in the town, the safety of the world, his mother’s sacrifice. He has to leave and go back to whatever corner of the world he returned from. The doors must _not_ be opened.

Before he even knows what he’s doing, Castiel is marching forwards with violent determination. Dean stops dead on his tracks, taken aback by the unwelcoming, hard look on the other’s face and the hostile air about him. Both of them are surprised when Castiel grabs him by the shoulders and starts pushing Dean back the way he came.

“Leave! Get the hell out of my property!”

Dean stumbles back several steps before he finally pushes Castiel off of him. 

In the back of his mind, in a secondary plane of importance, Cas can hear thunder rolling at the distance. The wind picks up. The weather turns unkind to match his unwavering rejection. He doesn’t mean to do it on purpose, it just happens sometimes, but this time his lack of control on his powers is useful. Castiel will make it pour down on Dean, he will make the sky fall on this stranger and chase him off his land and, hopefully, of his town.

“Hey, dude, relax! I’m sorry if I’m trespassing or something, I just want to—”

“We don’t want you here! Leave! You’re not welcomed!”

With every step Castiel takes forwards Dean backs off to match him until he’s on the other side of the gates again. Castiel shuts them closed, building a wall between them that should have never been opened. They’re both breathing hard, glaring at each other. Castiel is buzzing with magic that threatens to get out and Dean seems utterly confused and, for some reason, _hurt._

“Look, I’m really sorry if I offended you or something, I just—”

“I told you to leave!” Castiel points a finger at him through the fence. “And don’t you ever come back here, Winchester.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, any feedback, suggestions, thoughts, theories and general comments are welcomed and appreciated.
> 
> Credit to the art:  
> Franz Sedlacek - Ghosts on a Tree - 1933  
> Gustave Dore - The Vision of the Valley of Dry Bones  
> The rest were taken from random finds in Pinterest, I don't know the authors


	2. Chapter 2

Halfway through the narrow road through the woods that leads in and out of the Novak’s land, Dean steps on the brakes and brings the car to an abrupt stop. He breathes rapidly, trying to hold back the wave of inexplicable emotions Castiel’s rejection set off in him. He feels embarrassed and confused and stupid and childish for reacting so strongly. He has no idea what the hell just happened. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go…

It’s ridiculous, he even has the urge to cry. Dean sniffles and clears his throats, refusing to allow his eyes to even water, and then keeps driving. He’s not usually this sentimental or at least he rarely ever let’s it out, but today was important to him, he’d been looking forward to this day, to returning to his hometown and reuniting with Castiel and the Novaks for as long as he can remember. He had expected a warm welcome, this was quite the opposite of what he’s dreamed of.

Ever since they left town when he was about four years old, they lived mostly on the road, temporarily taking residency somewhere new every few weeks or months. His father, perpetually depressed by his wife’s tragic death in the fire that burned their house down, could never keep a job for long enough to settle down and call a place their home. It was a miserable life, Dean hated it, so did Sam. They’d be just starting to get comfortable, to get to know people and the layout of their neighbourhood, until sooner rather than later they were back on the road again. It was barely a year ago that John had finally pulled his shit together and sought professional counselling when Dean got arrested for stealing. Dean wasn’t proud of what he did but he’d hoped they would be able to stay a little longer if they had more money. Sam was doing so well at school, Dean was just trying to protect him, to make him happy. John went to therapy, stopped drinking like the world was coming to an end, took some meds for his depression and finally got in a good enough head space that Dean could convince him to take them all back to the one place they had ever called home. 

Home. This had been Dean’s dream for years, to go back to where he had a bit of family and friends left. He couldn’t remember a whole lot of it, but he had some photos and old home movies that survived the fire that told stories of better days he was desperate to relive. Those photos and videos were Dean’s treasure. The Novaks were in at least half of them. Dean didn’t need to hear stories about Clarice and Mary’s friendship to be able to tell they were as close as sisters but he certainly loved to whenever John shared them. And then there was Castiel, Dean’s own best friend, the only one he’d ever had. Born the same year, the boys used to be inseparable. John says, rather guiltily, that Dean used to cry and ask for him almost as much as he asked for his mother after they moved. Mary was dead and she wasn’t coming back but Castiel was still out there, far away from him, unreachable… until now.

It was a stretch to daydream of Castiel welcoming him back as if he could remember the good old days when they took naps together holding hands, Dean knew that, but Clarice Novak should certainly remember her best friend’s first born. Dean thought of her like the aunt he never had and always wanted. He’d imagined countless scenarios in which he came back, spent the afternoon drinking tea with them or whatever those small town folks did, and was basically adopted into their curious family. The Novaks were peculiar and reserved according to John, or at least Castiel’s father and uncle were, but they were also very friendly and loyal to the Campbells. Claire and Mary had grown up together and hoped their sons would too. Dean wanted that too. He doesn’t know how to explain it, the stubborn desire and instinct to go back and see Castiel again. Something in him just told him to go back and find the Novaks, something pulled him to them, to Castiel, like gravity pulled his feet to the ground.

They hadn’t been back a full day before Dean went searching for them as soon as they had finished unloading their stuff from the truck they’d rented, which honestly wasn’t much, even counting all the stuff they’d brought from John’s storage room. Dean asked to borrow the car as soon as he could, asked neighbours for instructions and absolutely ignored their concerned comments about how everyone knew those lands to be haunted. According to  _ everyone _ he spoke to, nobody ever went there. Dean even laughed. Sure, the road leading up to the house had a spooky vibe, like a tunnel made out of vegetation with a warning at the end, and the house had an old curious style that truly would make it in a movie as a haunted house, but Dean wasn’t a small town boy anymore, he’d been around, he wasn’t superstitious. No ghost stories would stop him from visiting the family he longed to belong to.

But Castiel would, apparently. Of all the ways Dean had dreamed this day would go, nothing like this had crossed his foolishly optimistic mind. Dean goes over their short conversation a dozen times on his mind, trying to pinpoint the moment it all went south. Was it something he said? Was it because he didn’t call first or because he’d let himself in through the gates without being invited in first? Was that really so rude that he deserved such a harsh reaction from Castiel? Dean doesn’t get it at all, why was Castiel so mad at him? That dude had a temper.

What the hell was Dean going to tell his family? He pushed for so long to move back here with the excuse that they had some sort of old family or friend ties they could go back to for support, he spoke out loud of his wishes of meeting the Novaks, and now he’s driving back home with his tail between his legs, utterly rejected by Castiel.

_ Maybe I can come another day, visit Clarice when Castiel is not around,  _ Dean thinks, trying not to succumb to hopelessness. He feels oddly humiliated, like a dumb kind proven wrong about something he had foolishly convinced himself to be a fact; that Castiel would still have the same nostalgic affection Dean holds towards him.  _ Castiel probably doesn’t remember me, but she should. _

Dean takes a deep breath as he joins the main road and drives away from the Novaks’ lands.

_ Jesus, don’t be so dramatic. Relax, man,  _ he tells himself in an attempt to deny to himself how actually disappointed he is.  _ It’s no big deal, you’ll make friends at school and you’ll meet Claire another day or something. It’ll be okay. _

Looking back on the rearview mirror he sees dark, stormy clouds gathering, heading towards the town. 

“Crazy weather,” he mutters to himself. It was perfectly sunny just minutes ago, now it seems he should hurry back home before the storm hits.

Except he doesn’t have it in him to return just yet. To John he could lie but Sam can read him like a book, he’ll know Dean’s upset right off the bat so he drives around for a while to calm down before actually heading home. He doesn’t know what he’s expecting but out of impulse he drives to their hold house. It’s been renovated, of course, but it looks pretty similar to what it used to be. Bringing the car to a stop just across the street, he stares at his first and only home, something tightening in his chest. He doesn’t know whether the memories are made up or true but he thinks he remembers playing with his little car toys in the front yard while his mom sat on the porch reading a book. He remembers his room being at the end of the corridor upstairs and how it used to terrify him looking down the hallway to go to the bathroom next to the stairs at night. For only four years he lived in that house but it was the only years he was truly happy. He’s being sentimental, he knows that, but he feels drawn to the house.

Before he even knows what he’s doing, he walks out of the car and heads towards the house. It’s starting to rain already, intermittently and only small drops, but from the distance he still hears the thunders promising something more spectacular soon. He knocks on the door and takes a step back, quickly coming up with what he’s going to say because he really hasn’t thought this through. What does he even want? To go in and take a look? The owner will probably tell him to fuck off. Dean hasn’t even decided what he’ll say before the door opens and a short woman in her late fifties or early sixties opens the door.

“Yes, dear? How can I help you?” she asks with a friendly smile. So far everyone’s been quite friendly in town, except for Castiel of course, the one person that really mattered to Dean.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, ma’am, I just—” he shrugs awkwardly and decides to simply tell the truth. “My name’s Dean, I’m new in town. Well, I mean, I used to live here, in this house actually, when I was a kid. I just had this weird urge to… see my house — well,  _ your  _ house now. A walk down memory lane, I guess.”

Dean laughs, it’s a tight but convincing smile. The lady gasps and returns his smile.

“Dean  _ Winchester _ ?” she asks and laughs. Her eyes skim over his face quickly, studying it all over again. “I cannot believe it! Look at you, all grown up! Oh, it’s so nice to have your family back in town. I used to babysit you sometimes, when your parents went out, I don’t suppose you remember.”

“Really?” Dean grins. “I don’t, I’m sorry.”

“Come on in, boy, come on in,” she invites him in, moving to the side. Dean takes a quick curious look around and is rather disappointed to see the house has changed from what he remembers. It’s been remodelled almost beyond recognition on the inside. Maybe it’s for the best, he figures, he should probably stop thinking about this house as his own, he’s got a new one now.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Would you like something to drink? Iced tea or water?

He laughs. “I’m good, thank you.”

“My name is Missouri. I bought the property right after your father put it up for sale,” she tells him as she leads Dean through the living room into the kitchen, towards a door under the stairs. “It took me a while to remodel the house and it turns out some of your family’s things survived the fire, in the basement. I’ve had them for years, never had the heart to throw them out.”

Dean’s heart jolts with excitement. Thrilled to see anything from his past, Dean follows her to the basement. 

“Really?” 

“Oh yeah! I’ve put them all away in boxes, I’ll show you. If you don’t want them, I can give them away.”

“Thank you so much, I’d love to see what’s in the boxes. I don’t have many things from back then.”

“I figured as much, darling.”

In the far corner of the basement Dean sees four medium sized boxes with the words  _ Winchester _ written in black marker. He opens one of them and peers inside; it’s a bunch of toys, his toys, mainly, and some clothes that at the time would have been too small for him but too big for Sam. His parents were probably storing them away until they were useful to them again.

“It’s mostly just toys, clothes, books… Would you like to sort through them?”

“Oh, no, I don’t want to take too much of your time,” Dean replies. “Besides, I’m supposed to head back home soon, there’s a storm coming apparently. Crazy how the weather changes around here, huh? I’ll sort through these at home.”

Missouri offers to help him carry the bags to the car, but Dean, (sometimes) a gentleman, doesn’t allow her to. They talk for a few minutes before he leaves and Dean promises to visit later. Once in the car, he can’t help the urge to quickly browse through the box. Like she’s mentioned before, most of the things there are not really useful to him anymore. The toys and the clothes, they will most likely give those away, John is not the type of sentimental guy to keep that sort of stuff for potential future grandkids. The books, on the other hand, will make a great addition to their rather empty home; after living mostly on the road for so damn long, they haven’t exactly accumulated belongings to fill the house they have now. He checks some of the titles and finds they’re mostly classics. Some he’s read, others he hasn’t and won’t either, but a few are promising; Frankenstein, To Kill a Mockingbird, Moby-Dick, The Lord of the Flies, The Secret Garden, a worn out copy of The Little Prince. Browsing through the books, he finds something curious, what seems to be a locked diary or journal hidden at the very bottom of the box. Dean’s eyes go wide as the moon and he tries to force the lock open, eager to see what’s inside, but the thing doesn’t budge. In a terribly selfish impulse, he hides the diary at the bottom of the box again, hoping to sneak it into his room when he gets home. 

When he does, it’s easy to get their dad and brother interested in the boxes and while they’re distracted going through the stuff he’s brought, Dean tugs the journal inside his jacket and makes his way into his bedroom, hiding it under his pillow for the time being. Then, he returns to the living room which is a work in progress, as is the rest of the house, and keeps a careful eye on his dad while they go through a dangerous memory lane sorting through the objects that belong to a life they once had. John seems melancholic and more than a little sentimental but, all in all, he keeps his shit together in front of his kids. Dean still holds his breath though, waiting for John to slip back into his hold depressive habits, too scarred himself by the past. Later that night, when his family has been laying in bed for long enough that he’s sure they must be sleeping by now, Dean ventures back into the living room and looks through the boxes again looking for some sort of key he can use to open the journal but finds none. Accepting his defeat for that night, he decides to finally go to sleep and get a good night’s rest before his big day tomorrow, the start of school. Afterwards, when he returns from school, he’ll find a way to force the journal open and see what’s inside. Somehow he knows he’ll find something juicy inside those pages, luckily more tales of his mother’s life.

Castiel, on the other hand, spends the rest of the day trying to fool Gabriel who at once notices the change in weather and of course attributes it to Cas. However, he denies being involved with the strange sudden storm that picked up during the afternoon and waves it off as a sudden change in weather.

“You know what the summer weather’s like,” he dismisses his brother’s concerns acting as relaxed as he can, “it’s kind of crazy. Climate change, am I right?”

Gabriel doesn’t say anything but the expression on his face easily reveals he is absolutely unconvinced by Castiel’s terrible acting. He’s never been good at hiding his expressions from the people he cares about. Still, Cas tries to continue with his cool facade. At least as long as Gabriel doesn’t know about Dean he can think Castiel is upset about the spell failing or something else related to their family. He doesn’t need to know the Winchesters are in town and hopefully he’ll convince (more like force…) them to leave before his brother even hears of their return.

_ Doubtful, _ Cas worries as he chews on his lip, eyes locked on the same page he’s been trying to read for the past half hour.  _ News travels fast in this town… _

He has to act fast. Cursed must be the Winchesters, their spirits broken. Their welcome into town must be unfriendly and cold and uninviting. They must not find a home here but enough disappointment and displeasure that it will drive them away elsewhere so that everyone can continue being happy and safe and the gates of Hell remain close. So that same night, in fact, Castiel stays in their library going through spell books after Gabriel retires to his bedroom. He knows just the spell he wants and the enchantment is simple, no need for any ingredients or complicated ritual. Once he finds the book, he sits on the circular table, turns the lights off and with a movement of his hand lights the candles.

_ Corrupt thy dreams but don’t awake, _

_ till morning comes thy dream I take. _

_ Tonight no rest thy soul shall find, _

_ for cursed thy dreams with nightmares are.  _

“You won’t sleep tonight, Winchesters,” Castiel speaks softly to the flames, feeling only partially guilty for the curse he lays on the family. It is for the greater good, after all, even theirs. “Or any other night you spend in my town.”

Even though he means well in the end, an uncomfortable thrilling pleasure runs through his veins every time he curses someone. He likes it and he hates that he likes it. The darkest magic is always the most enjoyable, something no witch can deny. 

Cas puts the book away and goes to his room. He lays down in bed but can’t sleep. Outside, the storm he caused earlier that day is not completely gone but has subdued in intensity. It’s raining softly against his window. Normally, rain soothes him to sleep but tonight he finds himself as restless as the Winchesters must be. He’s consumed by worry and his eyes are wide open as he stares at the roof in the dark. At least Seir didn’t come back with bad news; Castiel had sent him to keep an eye on Dean just in case he tried to open the door to the bunker and so far his familiar hadn’t returned to report any troubles.

Tomorrow he will most likely see Dean at school and that’s just another place where Cas can torture him but it’s not something he likes, he’s always tried to avoid doing magic in public. It’s not like people these days believe in witches, but it’s still a small town where loads of people remain really religious and drawing attention to themselves— well, more than his family already has— would not be wise.

He huffs in frustration and closes his eyes. He’s not one to believe in karma but he feels like fate is punishing him for his dreams are also haunted with nightmares all night and he finds no rest at all. Instead he dreams of fire again, of the smell of burning flesh. A pit of corpses he sees, some of them rotten, some others fresh, dark tall figures throwing new ones like they’re discarding garbage. It makes him sick, his stomach twisting in horror and disgust at the grotesque scene. At the distance, on top of a hill, with their backs turned to him, he sees someone that looks an awful lot like him, standing serene next to another blonde man who has a hand on his shoulder. Together they stare down at whatever new horror awaits down the other side the hill, something Cas can’t see, he doesn’t _want_ to see. He hears the screams in his mind and he wakes up panting in the early morning, fearing in his heart what will come if the Winchesters don’t leave.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean wakes up feeling like a truck ran him over the next day. He can’t remember the last time he slept so poorly. After years of sleeping in the car or shitty motels or even camping, he’d developed the necessary skill to be able to sleep anywhere but the first night in his own bed in what he hoped would be his permanent home had been absolutely shit. Upsetting nightmares plagued his dreams all night, he felt trapped in a never ending maze of darkness and faceless enemies that were out to get him, harm him, until he woke up with a start when the alarm finally went off in the morning. He laid in bed for a few minutes, heart beating fast in his chest, hands gripping the sheets tightly. He can’t remember the last time he had a nightmare that bad. He doesn’t want to think of it as a bad omen but also can’t help but feel weird about it as his father and brother sit with him during breakfast looking as equally drained.

“I’m dying,” Dean declares, rubbing his eyes which burn with exhaustion. He’s painfully aware of the weight of his body, the gravity that pulls him towards the floor where he just wants to lay for the rest of the day. “I’m literally dying.”

Sam yawns and chews without energy on his toast. It seems like an impossible task, trying to eat. He’s so tired he’s not even hungry.

“Me too.”

“Come on, you two, I thought you were excited to start school today!” John makes an effort to encourage them into merrier spirits despite the bags under his own eyes. He looks terrible but Dean is too afraid to ask about it. John has seen many sleepless nights before, nightmares of his wife haunting him to the point he couldn’t sleep much for weeks on end during the worst of his depression. Dean doesn’t want that to start again, he knows it ends up with his father drinking his mind away until he passes out, mind too numb and stupid with alcohol to come up with any coherent thoughts, let alone dreams.

“I had a terrible night, jeez. It was so weird.”

“Me too,” Sam agrees as he forces himself to eat some scrambled eggs. For a moment Dean thinks that’s all his brother’s tired mind can come up with but then he adds, “I had a _long_ nightmare.”

Dean looks up curiously. “Hey, same! Do you think it could be the house?”

Sam lifts an eyebrow. He’s not too tired to pull a bitch face. “How could it possibly be the house, Dean? It’s just a house.”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s too dry or something and we can’t sleep well? Maybe we should buy a humidifier. Or maybe it’s mold or something.”

His little brother looks at him like he’s beyond stupid and Dean shrugs, then turns to his dad for his opinion.

“No, I had the mold cleaned before you boys arrived,” John states proudly. He’ll take every little parenthood win he can take after so many wrongs. “I’ll get you a humidifier if you need one.”

Dean shrugs. His nose isn’t dry now that he comes to think of it. “Nah, it’s okay. I’ll just take a nap when I come home.”

John lets Dean drive to school which he’s thankful for because the Impala gives Dean a sense of pride and confidence that he desperately needs that morning. The boys aren’t in a chatty mood, both too tired to think of anything to say. However when they get to school Dean takes a moment to make sure Sam has everything he needs— his books, pen, pencil, calculator, notebooks— and wishes him luck as they both walk into the doors of the building. They head together into the administration office to pick up their schedules and get a short tour, then they’re led to their respective classrooms. Dean’s a little nervous as he watches his little brother go but then again he’s always been the one that fitted in the easiest and Dean was always the bad boy with a reputation. Whenever they drove into a new town, Dean never bothered to make an effort to blend in and make friends; after all, he knew it was a matter of time, weeks or maybe a few short months, before they moved away again and they never spoke again to the old classmates who always promised to write to him. This time around it’s different, they’re staying for good, they’re making this place their home so Dean wants to make friends which it’s a whole new concept for him. He has to make a good life here, he has to make a good impression, and the idea has his stomach turning in knots with nerves. Not that he’d ever tell anyone but he desperately wants to belong.

When the principal herself delivers him to his classroom, the students are already seated and the class is about to start. The teacher welcomes Dean and makes him stand in front of the class, as he has done so many times before, to introduce himself. He hates it every goddamn time, he feels like a monkey being asked to dance, and it’s even worse this time as his eyes quickly run through his classmates, doing a preliminary assessment of who he could possibly befriend. His eyes land in Castiel sitting almost in the back of the class. He looks just as unfriendly as the day before, as if Dean’s presence offended him.

 _Not him_ , Dean thinks bitterly as he averts his eyes. He wishes he could understand what made Castiel so angry in the first place, to set things right between them, but he can’t think of a good enough reason why they should have a problem with each other at this point. 

When the introduction is over and he’s free to take a seat, he hurries in the opposite direction from where Cas is sitting, eager to make himself invisible for a little while but failing miserably as he trips on his own shoelaces and drops his books on the floor noisily. At least he avoids failing on his face on the floor but the girl closest to him jumps off her skin as the books hit the floor and gives him a look of utter annoyance. Here and there he hears a few of his fellow classmates laughing or snorting.

“Sorry,” he mutters under his breath, cheeks burning a hot pink. Somehow his eyes find Castiel; he’s got this tiny, little smug smile on his lips, his fingers playing with some sort of cord— a shoelace?— under the table.

Dean takes his seat and tries to blend in for the rest of the class, struggling to keep his eyes from closing and his mind focused on the teacher. The class seems to stretch on forever and he copies every single word the teacher says in a desperate attempt to keep himself busy and therefore awake. The last thing he needs is for the teacher to see him falling asleep and think he’s a bad student or a slacker or disrespectful. He has been a bad student, for the most part, but that’s one of the things he’s supposed to change now.

His second class is also a torture but this time at least Castiel’s not there and he finds a seat on the back where he spends approximately fifteen minutes picking the lock of the journal until _finally_ he gets the damn thing open. After that, he’s got no idea what the teacher is saying although from time to time he looks up and scribbles short notes here and there in his notebook to pretend he’s paying some degree of attention. In truth all his focus is now on the journal which, as he suspected, belonged to his mother. It dates back to only about a year before she passed away. Dean’s eyes almost water with emotion as his fingertips trace his mother’s words. He wants to read the whole thing at once but for now he just quickly browses through the pages, smiling to himself as he finds a picture here or there and some notes in smaller pieces of paper she tuck in between pages. Some of them are drawings, one’s even from a toddler Dean, but others are strange poems or rhymes, and even ripped pages from books. It’s all rather mysterious and curious and Dean stews in his eagerness to figure it all out but waits patiently to have more time to read through the whole thing. He puts it away in his backpack again for safekeeping when the bell rings. There are more pressing things to take care of at the moment, like figuring out where the cafeteria is again because he’s already forgotten.

As Dean enters the large room, Castiel observes him from a distance from where he’s sitting with his friends.

“Damn, he’s gorgeous, isn’t he?” Charlie, who is also looking at Dean, says out loud to the boys sitting with her. Garth sits next to her, Cas right across from them with Benny by his side.

Benny snorts, amused, grinning at her. “Aren’t you gay, Charlie?” he teases her.

“Yeah, not _blind._ Should we invite him to have lunch with us?” 

“No,” Castiel responds too quickly.

Charlie raises an eyebrow, picking up on his way too abrupt of an answer. “Why not?”

Cas doesn’t have a good reply for it so he simply looks down at his food, buying some time, trying to act casual. It’s not like he can explain that Dean is a family mortal enemy… which _he_ doesn’t even seem to know. 

“He seems like a... douchebag.”

At that, Charlie’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. She knows Cas as a gentle and kind person, not one to judge strangers so gravelly that quick and easy, and he knows it well. If only he could tell her Dean Winchester is no stranger to his family…

“Wow, Cas, those are some harsh words,” she replies. Her disapproval is contained but not hidden.

“What makes you think that?” Benny asks curiously, also taken aback by his friend’s comment.

“It’s summer, he’s wearing a leather jacket. Also, did you see his car? You just—you can tell. Douchebag.”

It’s a stretch, it’s absolutely nothing to judge a person on, but Castiel just needs Dean to stay away from his table and even further away from his life. His friends are jewels in this dark, weird world and Cas knows what they’re worth, knows that if Dean befriends them his life will certainly improve because they’re amazing and really good people, so he can’t have that happening, Dean mustn't learn to love this place.

“I think it’s pretty cool,” Garth shrugs, never afraid to go against the current, even against his own friends. “Classy car, you know?”

He smiles at Castiel, not challengingly but kindly, in that Garth way of his that lets him know he disagrees but he’s not picking up an argument. He’s exactly the type of person that drives Castiel to do what he’s doing because he can’t let anything happen to his friend, he can’t let the gates of Hell open in his town. People like Garth deserve happiness and protection.

Castiel shrugs, uncomfortable being the only one going against the current. “I guess, if you like that sort of thing. Anyway, Charlie, why don’t you tell us what you’ve been working on? When should we expect our next D&D session?”

That is all that takes to distract Charlie from the subject of Dean Winchester and then he doesn’t have to do anything but sit back as Charlie herself leads the entire conversation in the direction he wanted in the first place. Charlie could nerd on for hours about D&D and has been their dungeon master for the better part of the past year. From a corner of his eye, however, he keeps a careful eye on Dean who is now sitting with his younger brother having lunch.

The rest of the day sucks for both of them. Castiel is on edge with Dean around and he goes over in his head planning harmless spells he can cast on Dean to make his days miserable while Dean struggles with the awkwardness of his first day at a new school. Every time he goes into his next class, he is painfully aware of his status of _the new kid_ , the one who doesn’t know anybody and tries to pretend they don’t feel eager as shit to have someone talk to him. Damn be teenagers though, because no one seems to have the courtesy to give him a proper welcome and strike up conversation with him. He would really appreciate it if someone took mercy on his soul and sat with him at lunch or something, he knows he can’t sit with Sammy forever. When the last bell rings and they’re free to go he tries not to run back to the car where he meets Sam who seems in a way better mood than him.

“How did it go?” Dean asks him as he leans against the hood of the car.

“Pretty good,” Sam grins. He seems happy which makes Dean happy. At least _one_ of them is off to a good start. “My classmates are pretty nice, how about yours? Did you find Castiel today?”

As Sam gets in, Dean follows suits, getting behind the wheel. Driving gives him a real excuse to avoid Sam’s eyes which is good because it makes lying to him easier. Dean had told him the day before that the Novaks weren’t home when he drove by but what excuse could he come up with now? He knows Castiel is his age and should be in the same grade.

“My classmates are… fine, I guess,” Dean shrugs.

They seemed okay, for the most part, with the typical distribution of groups of friends sticking to each other and not breaking ranks to welcome Dean. Maybe they need time to assess him, he thinks, to see if he’ll be a good fit in their group. He has to fit _somewhere_ , right? Everyone does…

_Right?_

“Did you find Cas?” Sam asks again rather distractedly as he gazes out the window, getting familiar with the town and its surroundings.

“Yup.”

A full minute of silence passes between them until Sam finally presses the subject. “And?”

Dean shrugs, trying to play it cool.

_Oh, nothing, he just hates my guts for no apparent reason._

“I don’t think he’s very interested in being friends.”

Sam finally turns around, frowning. After listening to Dean talk about finally meeting the Novaks for a long, _long_ time, he’s surprised to hear Dean sound so defeated about the subject, like there’s no more to say about it.

“Why not?”

Dean shrugs again. “Dude has his life.”

Sam shoves him.

“Dude, I’m driving!” Dean snaps at him.

“Don’t play it cool with me, I know you care! You were excited to meet him.”

“Yeah, well, he’s not excited to meet me, okay? Can we talk about something else?”

Sam sighs and gives him that look, that weird knowing stare that makes him appear wise and older, the one that tells Dean Sammy knows exactly how he’s feeling and they should talk about it. But he goes along with the request this time and doesn’t press the subject of Castiel Novak. He will ask again later though, Dean knows that, knows these cycles between the two of them like the back of his hand. 

“Are you going to visit his mom?”

“I guess, at some point.”

“Can I come when you do?”

Dean smiles, softening. “Sure, Sammy.”

But Dean doesn’t try to go to their home again, too afraid to cross paths with Castiel once more and get into another argument. He doesn’t want to piss him off again, fearing that he might talk shit about him to other people if Dean antagonizes him. That’s the last thing Dean needs, a bad reputation. The worst part is Dean has no idea what he did to anger him so he can’t make it right either. For the rest of the week, he decides to stay clear of him and instead he attempts to strike up conversation with some of the other students. He exchanges a few words here and there with a few people but he never gets invited to have lunch with any group, nor do people seem particularly interested in making an effort to integrate him. It doesn’t help that he keeps having stupid little awkward incidents that make him look like an idiot. For example, after tripping two more times on his shoelaces that week in front of the whole class, he starts checking them religiously, tucking the ends inside his shoes to ensure they don’t play tricks on his anymore. He also slips on the cafeteria on Wednesday and drops his entire plate of pasta on his white shirt. On Thursday a rather huge spider lands on him in the middle of the class, catching him by surprise and making him squeal embarrassingly loud in disgust, interrupting the professor in the middle of his explanation and making the girl who sits next to him jump out of her skin. He has the feeling she hates his guts, it’s the second time that week he startles her. Oh, and he also wakes up with a big, angry pimple in his forehead on Friday. Awesome, just what he needs.

He pretends he doesn’t care about his obvious lack of social life, he tells his dad it’s all going well to avoid worrying him. Once Dean convinced John to return to his hometown, he actually got excited about it and Dean wants to keep it that way. He doesn’t want to burst his bubble, not when his dad’s making an obvious effort to make this work. Sleep doesn’t seem to come easy to him either under that roof but despite being exhausted John tries his damn hardest to stay positive and active, working his ass off in his new job and then spending some quality time with his boys in the evening. So Dean pretends everything is running according to plan because it is, just not for _him_. He even lies to Sam, says he’s going to eat outside in the bleachers with someone else so his brother doesn’t feel bad ditching him in favour of Barry and Eileen, two kids he’s been hanging out with lately. He’s happy for Sam but eating alone kind of sucks, it makes him feel like a fucking loser and very aware of his loneliness. It’s not all bad though, because it gives him time to go through his mother’s journal in peace.

That thing is full of weird shit Dean can’t always understand... 

Some entries in the journal are completely normal. She writes about being pregnant with Sammy and things Dean would normally find boring coming from anyone else but he still finds it interesting because it’s his mom going through it. She notes cute little stories about Dean being excited to become a big brother and Cas being a little jealous both of Dean having a little brother and also sharing Dean’s attention. She makes a joke about the two of them having a crush on each other. Here and there she describes something sweet John did or said which has Dean smiling down at her words, the love his parents shared.

There’s a bit of drama too in her notes. Apparently Mary is not too fond of Charles, Castiel’s father. She doesn’t seem to dislike him but at the same time she doesn’t seem to think he’s the best match for her best friend. She bites back her tongue, she says, because Clarice made up her mind and married this man she’s in love with and Mary knows saying something against him will cause nothing but pain between them. Mary says she’ll stick around and protect her, but from _what_? From Charles? From what Dean gathers, both Clarice and Charles were truly in love, he didn’t sound like a violent guy. 

_She thinks she knows what this life is like but she doesn’t,_ Mary writes in one entry. _She’s never seen someone get hurt, she doesn’t really know how dangerous it can be. Cas seems to have the_ (Mary writes something here but then furiously scribbles on top to hide what her pen wrote) _. Sometimes I worry about Dean playing with him but I don’t have the heart to separate them and Charles promises it’s safe. I don’t know what to do. I wanted out, completely, but I can’t abandon my friend, I just can’t. Of all the people in town, why did she have to fall in love with him?_

Dean is extremely intrigued. What the hell does ‘this life’ mean? What does Cas have that she didn’t want anyone else to read? Why would it be unsafe for Dean to play with another three years old boy? 

Mary also seems to have trouble getting along with her parents, but Dean can’t understand _why_ . Here too his mother seems deliberately secretive about the reason, as if she were afraid that someone might read it and find out some sensitive family secret. _The life_ , she keeps writing. What’s that supposed to mean? As far as Dean heard from John, Samuel Campbell, his grandfather, was mostly a salesman who travelled a lot for work and didn’t approve of John as his daughter’s husband. John didn’t know them too well but he never gave Dean the impression that there was something odd, dangerous or criminal about his in-laws. Apparently there was because Mary didn’t approve of their lifestyle, or Charles’, and she didn’t want their children raised the same way. She wanted to leave the town, in fact, eventually, which leaves Dean with mixed feelings. He always wanted to return to his parents’ hometown to feel closer to her and now he finds out she always wished to leave.

Then there are just absolutely random pages from books or articles from the newspaper, plus drawings on the margins of strange symbols and sigils. Dean goes through all of them, intrigued and confused, not being able to find a relation between them at all. For starters, Mary has collected a few pages from what Dean ends up figuring out is the book of revelations—the _apocalypse_ , no more or no less, just some casual light reading Dean supposes. Then there are torned pages from different books, some which include spooky illustrations and inscriptions in languages he sometimes doesn’t even recognise. There are a few pages of a book that details the rituals of an old group of witches. The spells, for some odd reason, are in Italian. Dean wonders if his mom spoke Italian, his father never mentioned that. Last but not least, Dean finds a series of newspaper articles about a series of tragic deaths and even murders occurring in town and its surroundings, all of which happened within a few months around the year Sammy was born. It’s a rather dark thing to keep in the journal in Dean’s opinion, but he figures that sometimes small town folk feel these types of things more personal as they’re a tighter community. His mother certainly seems to take it very seriously, making notes on her journal around those dates, notes that again leave Dean feeling puzzled and like he’s intruding on her secrets.

Mary reports his father is looking into the strange deaths of two women. The first one was labelled an accident by the police, but they’re sure the second was a murder due to the violence of the death. There were no signs of break-in. Around that time, Mary writes, _Dad wants me to help with the hunt and I feel like I should but I just can’t. If I say yes, he’ll drag me back into the M.O.L._ —Dean sees a lot of mentions of the ‘M.O.L.’ but he has no freaking clue what on Earth that stands for—. _I drew the line a long time ago, I’m out. I feel selfish, like a coward, but I can feel it in my soul, if I get involved it’s going to end up bloody. It usually does. And I’m not strong enough now. I need to focus on my babies, I need to watch out for my own family. Does that make me a bad person?, Charles is on it anyway, he’s helping dad, that should be enough, right? He’ll be back soon and hopefully he’ll have an answer for what’s happening. If anybody can stop it, it’s him. I just really hope they’re safe while he’s gone._

Dean devours the journal. By the end of the week, he’s finished the whole thing. He started reading it thinking it would make him feel closer to her mother, as if he could get to know her through it, but as he finishes reading the last part all he feels is an overwhelming curiosity and agitation. Not to mention he’s deeply disappointed that the journal doesn’t mention at all what the key Mary left him is for. The sort of cool, sort of creepy old key, made of bronze with a skull on the top, has puzzled Dean since he was a kid. He can _barely_ remember his mom giving it to him and telling him to keep it with him, forever and always, to protect it, but for the life of him he can’t remember if she even mentioned what it opened. John has no clue what it opens either and had never seen the key until Dean asked about it. All Dean knows is it’s important so he’s always carried it on a chain around his neck. He had hoped to find answers in the journal but, quite the contrary, his brain is now full of even more mysterious questions.

 _What the hell_ , is all he can think of by the end of the journal. The last entry dates back to only a few weeks before his mother died, with the journal having a few pages to spare that she never completed.

Just what the hell was going on in his mother’s life? John never, absolutely _never_ mentioned anything weird about his mother who, by the way, seems to have kept all about _the life_ a secret from her husband. She kept John away from her parents on purpose. She wanted to move away so her children wouldn’t get dragged down into _the life_ by their grandparents. But _what the hell_ was ‘ _the life’_ to begin with and why was it dangerous? He can’t help the suspicion that Samuel Campbell is anything but a simple salesman. And what was Charles going to stop and where did he go? What did his mom think was happening in town? It’s like she believed that somehow the accidental deaths and the murders were connected and that somehow she could stop it all. Was she maybe kind of… crazy? Dean felt terrible just thinking about it, judging her, but what the hell could she possibly be referring to if not some sort of delusional paranoia? 

Dean is dying to know, dying to get some answers. And he knows how to get them; he has to go see Clarice and Charles Novak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spider gif source: garotapossuida (tumblr user)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas keeps going at it!

During the first week of school, Cas tries many things to break the Winchesters’ spirits. He makes a ton of bugs appear in random places of the house, he makes the temperature be uncomfortably high during the day and terribly cold at night. He continues to haunt their dreams and fabricates spooky sounds in the dead of night in case they wake up; they will have no peace, awake or asleep. Dean is easier to torture at school since they’re in the same class and Cas knows _a lot_ of practical, harmless but annoying spells he can pull on Dean to make his day a little miserable that don’t require any big ritual, a few whispered words are enough. It works perfectly, he finds ways to embarrass him at least twice a day. By now Dean’s become known for being awkward and clumsy and a magnet for embarrassment and people for the most part seem to stay clear of him in case his luck is contagious. In some people though, like his friends, it seems to bring up sympathy. On Wednesday when Dean gets all the pasta on his shirt Charlie can barely look at the scene out of secondhand embarrassment.

“Oh, I feel so bad for him,” Charlie whispers from behind the hand that’s covering her mouth.

The guys from the soccer team are laughing their asses off as Dean retreats out of the building. Castiel tries not to feel bad by how mortified Dean looks.

 _This is for the best,_ he tells himself.

And if he’s honest with himself, even if he harvests some degree of pity towards the Winchester boy, it feels damn good to be putting his powers to use again. So good, in fact, it’s kind of frightening yet exhilarating. It brings out a dark pleasure inside of him. The reason he stopped cursing his bullies a long time ago, it felt way too good, almost addictive.

“He’ll live,” Cas mutters, poking his potato with his fork without any real interest.

“He kind of reminds me of you.”

Castiel scoffs as he lifts his head. “In what way? We’re nothing alike.”

“You’ve always been prone to have weird shit happen around you too,” she explains, then points to his bandaged arm, “like getting attacked by a... wild dog, was it? How the hell did that happen, again?”

The witch is quick to divert the conversation away from himself after that.

On Thursday Charlie tries to bring up the subject of Dean Winchester again, bless her soul, when he’s nowhere to be seen during lunch at all. The pity in her voice is evident, she’s always been a friendly, empathetic person.

“My mom works with his dad, she also went to school with his mom,” she tells them. “You know that fire when we were kids that killed a woman? That was his mom. And that couple murdered in their homes by The Phantom Reaper? Those were his grandparents.”

Garth looks up from his lunch and snorts, raising an eyebrow. “The phantom _what?_ ”

“You don’t know about that?” Benny blinks a few times, amazed. _Everyone_ in town knows about that, it’s the reason why parents to this day are so wary of letting their kids go out at night. It changed the town forever, it planted the seed of fear in their minds.

His friend, who has only been living in town for the last three years, shrugs, a little confused. “No?”

“ _Really?_ The Phantom Reaper was some psycho that killed like 5 people in the period of a few months. What year was that? I can’t remember. We were like, what, three, four?”

Cas nods. He knows the story very well, even more so than mortals. His family had tried to find the murderer at Samuel Winchester’s request. They all suspected someone was using dark magic to kill people since the police weren't able to find any traces of forensic evidence or signs of a break-in. Other mysterious deaths had occurred in town that to normal people seemed like freaky tragedies but to a family of witches and hunters looked like trouble. Charles had gone back to Hell to find out more information and it was because of the killer that he got trapped in Hell when Mary closed the door to Hell. In his absence, Dean’s grandparents got targeted which made Gabe suspect they’d been close to finding out who it was.

So, yes, Castiel remembers, he remembers very well. He wishes he could find the guy and break his legs and rip his soul apart. 

“Yeah,” Charlie nods and shivers a little. She doesn’t like those kinds of stories. 

Garth doesn’t seem bothered at all by the dark subject. “The name is kind of stupid, isn’t it?”

“Yes but it was really scary back then. The police had no evidence, hence the phantom thing. Anyway, apparently Dean’s father got _really_ depressed when his wife died and took off with the boys, lived on the road a lot. He finally got his shit together and came back. I feel really bad for them, my mom says Mary was the nicest girl. She was super close to your mom, Cas. What do you guys say we invite Dean for lunch some time? He doesn’t seem too bad.”

“His mother betrayed my mom, Charlie. If it weren’t for her—” Cas bites his tongue. He can’t explain, not without outing himself as a witch. Taking a deep breath, he picks his next words carefully. “She caused my family a lot of pain. I just don’t want to have lunch with Dean, okay?”

Castiel holds her stare for a second, then busies himself with his lunch again in sulky silence. He doesn’t say anything further and thankfully Charlie doesn’t push the subject anymore, doesn’t ask him to explain himself. Cas rarely ever talks about his family and his friends know it; it’s not just because it’s painful but because there are so many secrets he can’t tell people, he rather just not say anything at all rather than to lie. It’s hard to keep up with all of them and he frankly just doesn’t like to. Even though it’s upsetting, he has no choice but to let people think that Charles all but abandoned his family and Clarice was murdered by the killer and that her remains were never found. He doesn’t fuel those rumours but neither Castiel and Gabriel ever bothered to dispute them either. After all, it’s not like they could tell them they knew exactly where she was, turned into stone in their garden and that his father didn’t just move away but is actually trapped in Hell. 

In the end the conversation does resonate with Castiel. He has a clear goal, a _mission_ , but his heart is not made of stone and he’s not a cruel person so he relents with the nightmares he curses the Winchesters with. Well, mostly with John. He wants that man to realize this is _not_ their home but Cas doesn’t want to be guilty of triggering depression on someone who is in a vulnerable state of mind. He’ll have to convince the brothers, then, and then have them convince their father. Dean, especially, since Cas also has a moral impediment when it comes to messing with Sam too much as he is four years younger than the witch. The brothers seem close enough that Sam would follow his older brother out of town anyway, as Castiel would follow Gabriel if he left, so all Cas needs to do is focus on Dean Winchester, get _him_ to hate this place so much he begs his family to leave at once. Then everybody wins, everybody’s safe.

On Friday he realizes he’s going to need more ammunition. Sam Winchester’s social life seems to be thriving while Dean’s doesn’t, Cas notices he already has a few friends and that his older brother pretends to be all smiles when he’s with him. Again, it’s what Cas would do with his brother, pretend to be happy and content to protect the happiness of his family, so Castiel figures he needs to push Dean harder if he wants him to feel bad enough that he’ll ask his family to leave even if the other two seem to be settling in just fine. So that night finds Castiel researching more spells and then standing in front of the magic mirror in his room, spying on Dean’s past.

_Mirror mirror on the wall,_

_Dean Winchester I need to know._

_show me his secrets, show me his lies,_

_show me the darkness in his life._

The mirror shows him _a lot_ of things, probably more than he wanted or expected to see. Some of it is useful for the purpose Cas had in mind but in some other instances intruding on Dean’s secrets just makes the witch feel like a creep looking through someone's bedroom window when he really, _really_ shouldn’t. It feels wrong and in the end it just makes him feel bad for Dean which is definitely not helpful but he can’t stop watching it anyway, his eyes are glued to the mirror by morbid curiosity.

For starters he sees Dean crying in secret a lot when he was younger. In the bathroom of a little motel in the middle of nowhere while his dad is passed out from drinking and his little brother is sleeping. Sometimes he cries out for his mother in choked sobs that are barely audible, sometimes he even calls for Castiel. This is a memory that repeats itself in some way or another many times until Dean is about 7 years old. 

“Okay, skip the sad parts,” he tells the mirror, a bit annoyed. So far all the mirror’s doing is making him sympathize with the enemy, not give him a reason to hate on him; now all he wants is to go back in time and hold that scared, heartbroken boy.

After that, it seems that Dean changes grief for anger; he becomes rebellious, confrontational and simply a magnet for trouble. He steals a lot for starters (food, money, clothes, you name it, it doesn’t matter if he really needs it or not) and he also gets in quite the amount of fights. He always tells his dad he was only defending himself when the school calls his father in for a chat but Castiel sees him starting a lot of fights at the smallest of provocations. _This_ Cas uses as fuel to antagonize Dean. After all, he _is_ a jerk who starts fights out of nowhere just for the sake of it, just because he can, because he is a good fighter and he doesn’t care what his reputation is like since his family moves around a lot.

“Wouldn’t you be angry too if you were that boy?” his grandmother challenges Castiel’s quick judgement. She’s been watching him so far, has listened to Cas try to convince her and possibly himself that Dean’s a bad person, not fitted for their lovely, old town. “If you ask me, this seems like a rather sad life he had, Castiel. No home, a broken family, an alcoholic father…”

“I have a sad story too but you don’t see me picking fights just because, do you?” 

“No, I see you cursing a lonely boy to an even lonelier existence. At least he gave his opponents a chance to defend themselves. I can’t keep watching you do that, my love, this is not the grandson I know.”

Without waiting for a response, she turns away from him and leaves the room, leaving him speechless, cheeks burning hot with shame. Her words hurt like a knife piercing and twisting his gut. He sets his jaw and presses his lips into a thin line, taking a few calming breaths as he tries to tame the turmoil he feels inside at her words. He’s angry that she doesn’t understand why he’s doing all of it but also undeniably ashamed as well for spying on someone like that to later release that information to people who have no right knowing. 

Castiel’s glad she leaves though because as Dean grows older the mirror shows him what must be Dean’s deepest, darkest secrets; he starts sleeping around, _a lot_ , almost as a way of interacting with people. Dean says yes to anyone who shows interest in him and Cas can’t help but feel sorry for him. Dean’s so desperate for a connection, he goes to any lengths to get it. Sadly for him, he learns the hard way that that’s not how it works at all. There’s one occasion where a guy takes things a bit too far, tries to convince him into doing things he’s not comfortable with, and finally Dean realizes he’s being used, not cared for. It shatters him, for a while, but he tries his damn hardest not to let it show. Cas feels a little sick with himself as he watches Dean try to contain his anguish.

It takes Castiel a while to actually go through with the spell. There’s no way around it, he hesitates and kind of feels bad about it after seeing only parts of what Dean’s been through, enemy or not, and knowing that his grandmother fully disapproves of what he’s doing. But at the end, when he is tired and yet dreads going to sleep, afraid that the nightmares of death and monsters will return, he is reminded of why it’s so important to get his hands dirty. After all, if the gates of Hell open and something terrible happens, Dean won’t be happy either, he won’t be safe, so Cas is _kind of_ doing him a favour… or that is what he tells himself as he casts the spell that will have rumours of Dean being a thief and a troublemaker running around in the minds of the town’s residents, whispered by a voice they can’t quite recall.

_A whisper here, a whisper there,_

_divides a stranger from the herd._

_Dean Winchester, of him beware_

_a thief and liar we won’t spare._

_A whisper here, a whisper there,_

_has everyone stop and stare._

_The rumours our people share,_

_Dean Winchester, of him beware._

Red is coming, an explosion of infernal proportions. The end of life as Earth knows it. Castiel isn’t afraid, he knew it was coming. He allowed it to happen. In the horizon, up in the air, he seems them, those he has summoned himself; the devil and, close behind him, the horsemen of the apocalypse. A thrill like no other runs through his fingers while the blast advances and destroys everything on its way. He’s immune to it so he’s not afraid. Those he considers worthy of protection will also be safe from the blast. Everyone else though... 

When it’s over, a new world begins, one of his own creation, one where he rules. This is his world now, a blank canvas he will dominate. He will do a much better job than God himself. As the fire catches up with him, he lifts his arms and smiles. The flames only make him stronger and soon Satan will place the crown on his head himself. The magic running through his veins is arousing and he doesn’t think he can ever get enough of it. The seed Satan had planted in him blossoms and the darkness finally overpowers the light in him until it’s nearly gone. He’s a proper child of the night now and there’s no turning back.

With a start, he wakes up gasping for air. His skin burns hot as if the flames had really touched him.

The weekend is as far as Castiel can make it without Gabe knowing that the Winchesters are back in town. Castiel is lucky to have even made it that far but on Saturday he returns from doing a run of grocery shopping fuming and empty handed.

His brother storms into the house and barks, “Castiel!”, slamming the door shut behind him with an angry movement of his hand. The whole house seems to rattle with his fury.

Cas takes a deep breath in as he closes his eyes, fully aware that this can only mean Gabriel finally knows about the hunters returning to town, and drags his feet to where his brother is waiting for him. Gabriel’s doing his best impression of a pissed off parent, hands on his hips as he taps the floor impatiently with one foot.

“Is there something you want to tell me?”

“I presume you already know.”

“For Satan’s sake, Castiel, when were you going to tell me the Winchesters are back!? Dean has to be in a class with you, why didn’t you say something?”

The lights flicker. Cas looks around, surprised; Gabriel _never_ loses control like this, his magic never manifest without his intention. But his brother is beyond furious, hands curled into fists that are practically shaking, so Castiel tells him the truth. There’s no point in lying, anyway.

“Look, Gabe,” he takes a deep breath, readying himself to be a fucking traitor to his own kind, his own _family_. “I... don’t think we should open the door.”

Gabriel just stares at him at first, confused, like he can’t believe he heard that right, then hurt is clear in his eyes. He’s speechless for a second.

“How can you even say that?”

“My nightmares are _not_ just dreams, they’re warning, Gabe. Something’s coming.”

“Cas—”

“No, you _must_ believe me! I don’t know how I know but it’s true, I can _feel_ it. It can’t be a coincidence the Winchesters are back, this is warning, Gabriel. We _have_ to make them leave before they find the bunker and the key to Hell.”

“You don’t understand—”

Gabe takes a step forward, Cas takes one back.

“No, _you_ don’t understand,” Castiel accuses, pointing a finger at him. “I’m not going to risk the apocalypse just so that we can have our happily ever after. You always say my mother _died_ to save this town, I’m just not going to—”

“Cas, dad can bring her back!” Gabe shouts over his voice, breaking the distance between them and gripping the front of Cas' shirt with urgency. “If we open the door, he can bring her back!”

It’s Castiel’s turn to be utterly out of words. Hell, out of _breath_. Gravity seems to shift, his knees become weak. His eyebrows meet in confusion and he gapes like a fish out of water, looking for some sense in his mind before trying to form a coherent sentence. He’s sure he heard or understood that wrong.

“What?” he finally manages to say, barely in a whisper.

“Dad can bring her back,” Gabe repeats, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “When they got married, they made a blood spell that bound them together, to be loyal to each other forever. When she broke it, she turned to stone—”

“I know that,” Cas cuts impatiently.

“Yes, _but_ ,” Gabe continues, “we never told you that it could be undone. If the betrayed forgives the betrayer, the curse will be lifted. If dad comes back to this realm, all he has to do is do a simple ritual and she’ll be back to normal.”

Castiel feels the tears in his eyes and a wave of overwhelming hope timidly but fiercely growing in the back of his heart and soul. Gabe cups his brother’s face and chuckles. He looks ten years younger with the weight of that secret finally lifting off his shoulders and newfound hope replacing it.

“We can bring her back, Cas,” he whispers. “I know she’s your mother, but I was rather fond of her too, you know? I miss her too.”

Cas blinks his tears away and takes a few steps back, almost losing his balance when he trips with the rug. He leans against a table, weak and dizzy, as his mind spirals with opposing values and desires.

He could bring his mother back to life. 

He could have _all_ of his family back.

But at what prize? Could this really tip his moral scale in favour of risking the apocalypse just so he can get what he wants?

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” 

“We always knew it was a long shot, trying to open the bunker without the Winchesters. Dad didn’t want to put promises in your head that he wasn’t sure he could keep,” Gabriel explains, tone uncharastically soft. He walks towards his brother and plants a firm hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently “But, Cas… Now we could do it. We could _really_ do it. The key to Hell has to be in the bunker and the key to the bunker lays inside those boys’ blood.”

“Problem is, I don’t think they know about witches and hunters. I’ve had Seir keep an eye on them all week and they seem pretty normal.”

“Perfect!” Gabe beams and Cas lifts an eyebrow in response. “Think about it, it’s better if they don’t know, they won’t try to stop us then. All we need to do now is take their blood.”

“Take their blood?” Cas repeats, giving his brother a reproving stare. Yes, he’s cursed the Winchesters, Dean more than the others, time and time again in the last few days, but to actually _harm_ them? He wouldn’t, he could never… “Would you go as far as to hurt them?”

Gabe rolls his eyes. “You know we can’t _really_ harm him, it’s part of the peace treaty. If we seriously injure him, the treaty will curse us and I’ve heard the curse is supposed to be pretty bad, _but_ if we just rough him up a little bit, just enough to draw some blood, we should be safe.”

Cas is still not convinced at all.

“What do you suggest we do?”

“Get in a fight with him.”

The youngest Novak stares at his brother for 10 full seconds before he bursts out laughing. “You’re kidding.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding, Cas?” Gabe responds, dead serious.

“He’s going to kick my fucking ass.”

“Small price to pay for having your family back, wouldn’t you say, Cas?”

Still torn between his desire to reunite his family and his treacherous heart warning him against opening the door, Cas retreats, unsure, confused. He shakes his head and doesn’t dare meet his brother’s eyes.

“I don’t know, Gabriel… I’m not sure we should…”

“Cas, do you trust me?”

Castiel sighs. “I do, but—”

“Look, man, I know you’re afraid but there’s _nothing_ our family can’t do when we join forces. Dad’s one of the most powerful witches out there. With him on our side, I swear to you nothing’s getting through that gate without our saying so.” 

Gabriel grabs him by the shoulders again and Cas finally looks up to see the urgency in his brother’s eyes. The blonde snaps his fingers and a dagger appears in his hands. He grabs his brother’s hand and cuts the skin in his palm only barely, a shallow little injury that he’ll be able to cure in the blink of an eye later, then cuts himself too without batting an eye. Gabe grabs his hand, the injuries touching, their blood mixing.

“Gabriel, stop,” Cas urges him, trying to pull away before his brother can make a spell that will bound him with his life. Those are dangerous, they should know that, but Gabriel doesn’t even hesitate.

“I swear to you, with my blood and my life, that if the time comes to choose between our family and the fate of the Earth, I will close the gate to Hell myself should any threat arise. I promise to follow your lead and protect humankind at whatever cost.”

Castiel can feel the magic working, binding Gabe to his promise, stripping him of a choice if Cas’ fears become true. If danger comes knocking at their door, Gabriel will have to follow Castiel’s orders or die. It’s a terrible weight Cas would rather live without but the blood spell can’t be undone.

“Do you trust me now?”

Cas puts his arms around his brother, the guy that’s practically a father to him, pulling him into a much needed hug. “Of course I do, Gabe. Let’s just hope it doesn’t come down to that…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art: False dawn Julian-Faylona, check out their DeviantArt  
> Gif: unknown source, found through a google search.


	5. Chapter 5

The weekend is pretty boring although not entirely uneventful, at least for Dean. On Saturday morning, he goes grocery shopping with his dad who runs into a colleague, a cute woman with red hair, just a bit younger than him. She has a really enthusiastic smile for his dad. Dean plays dumb and gives them some space; it’d be _awesome_ if his dad found someone to go out on a date with, put down some roots, enjoy a bit of romance after so long. He runs into a man that looks really familiar, who also stares at Dean like he’s trying to remember who he is. They both realise who the other is at the same time but before Dean can say anything— and he _really_ wants to speak to him— Gabriel Novak turns on his heels and hurries away, abandoning his shopping cart as if he’d seen a ghost. Dean stands there like an idiot, mouth hanging open with everything he wanted to say as he watches Castiel’s brother go, completely confused by the strange interaction. He checks his reflection in one of the glass doors of the food freezers, just in case, but there’s nothing weird about his appearance that day apart from that stupid pimple that’s still healing.

“Okay, I guess weird runs in the family,” he mutters to himself as he pushes his cart away.

In the afternoon he takes Sam to the mall— the one and _only_ mall in town, a tiny thing that at least has a good ice cream and candy shop, or so Sam tells him his friends have told him. Dean gives him some money and watches like a proud parent as Sammy joins his friends, Eileen and Barry, and smiles as his younger brother obviously gravitates around Eileen like a love-struck puppy.

“His first crush,” Dean laughs under his breath. He’s going to tease the hell out of his brother but he can’t help but find it really cute too. _Good for him._

After that, Dean spends the rest of the day walking and driving around, not really expecting to be successful but still hoping he will magically find whatever lock or door his mother’s key opens. Maybe if he solves that mystery first he’ll figure out some of the other questions that haunt him about her. He visits some of the public tourist places, like the town hall, two museums that are super small and even more boring, the goddamn cemetery (it was a stretch but it seemed fitting what with the skull that adorns the key), some of the oldest shops and even the public library. Libraries are not the kind of places Dean usually goes to but after strolling around all day with people giving him weird looks, raging between disapproving and suspicious, he gets weirded out and decides to head to a quieter place. He gets distracted there browsing through the fiction section and makes a mental note to get a library card later so he can take out some books. 

When he comes out of the library, a rather big crow flies by in a rush right over his head, scaring the shit out of him, and he almost trips down the stairs in the entrance. He finds his balance before he can roll down the stairs and make a fool of himself, leaning against the rails and swearing at the stupid bird.

“Jesus, what’s with my luck lately,” he mutters angrily.

The next day, John all but drags Dean and Sam out of the house and into a garage sale. It’s hosted by that woman they saw at the supermarket, so Dean stops complaining when they get there and he actually makes an effort to, first of all, keep Sam out of his dad’s way and second, to find something useful for their house. He’s going through a box with old Sega Genesis games when a redhead his age that he recognises from school approaches him with a rather alarmed look on her face.

“Please don’t buy those,” she discreetly whispered as she tries to pretend she’s rearranging other things instead of talking to him. “My mom tries to sell them every year.”

It takes him a second to realise she’s talking to him.

“Why?” Dean whispers back, amused.

“Well, my console broke _ages_ ago and I haven’t found a shop online that doesn’t have crazy shipping prices so I’m waiting to go to college to buy one, meanwhile my mom says we gotta get rid of anything we don’t use more than once a year.”

Dean chuckles. He grabs Earthworm Jim from the box and examines it. It’s in perfect condition. “Well, I don’t know, it seems tempting.”

“Oh, come on, _please_ , Dean.”

He blinks, pleasantly surprised. All along he’d thought he was a ghost, that nobody noticed him... It is nice to be wrong.

“You know my name?”

“ _Everyone_ knows your name. Small town, loads of gossip,” she shrugs.

“Oh, yeah?” he smirks, trying to play it cool as he keeps the conversation going, but truthfully he doesn’t love the sound of that. “And what are people saying about me?”

The girl hesitates, avoiding meeting his eyes. Dean’s smile drops a little, immediately sensing something’s wrong.

“I rather not repeat it,” she finally says. When she looks up she smiles kindly at him. “People are dumb sometimes. Again, a bit of a small town issue.”

Dean can’t help the treacherous curiosity that tempts him into asking for more details, although he knows it’s probably better not to know. He’s been in this spot before, being the odd one out, the black sheep in town. He knows what it’s like, but damn it, this time he hasn’t done anything to actually deserve the title.

She must see something in his eyes, must sense her sincerity has somewhat crushed his spirit, for she takes pity on him and offers her hand kind of awkwardly.

“I’m Charlie,” she introduces herself. Dean shakes her hand, forcing a smile. “So, I—”

“Charlie!” her mom calls her. They both lift their gazes to see her talking to John, who is balancing a few items he’s purchased in his arms. “Darling, come give us a hand please.”

“I’ll see you around, Dean,” she says with a bright smile before she runs off to help.

“Nice to meet you!” Dean yells after her kind of lamely, wishing he could talk to her for a little longer. There’s a friendly, welcoming vibe about her he’s desperately been looking for in someone his age.

Sam, the lucky bastard, finds someone from his class who invites him over to play video-games. John lets him go while Dean helps get some things back to the house; a few lamps, a rug, a mirror, a toaster and other random stuff their house needs. 

“What about you, huh?” John asks him on the way home. He elbows a distracted Dean to get his attention. “Got any plans for today?”

Dean shrugs as he looks out the window, lost in thought. It’s a lovely morning, people are out and about walking. It looks like a perfectly nice town, maybe a little too perfect.

“Hanging with you at home, I guess,” he mutters without much interest. “Still got some repairs to do, right?”

“Yeah…” John replies, then hesitates for a moment before continuing. “But, you know, if you have other plans, I don’t mind doing the repairs by myself.”

“Nah, it’s fine, I don’t have other plans.”

“Alright, then..”

Something in his tone makes Dean pay attention. He turns towards his father and after a brief silence says, “what?”

“What what?”

“What’s with that tone, dad?”

John shrugs, trying to play it cool. He’s not good at it, has never been, Dean’s always been able to read him very easily. “I don’t know, just thought it was a really nice day, maybe there’s someone else you could be hanging out with rather than your boring old man.”

“I don’t think you’re boring,” Dean replies with honesty. And yes, they’ve been through a lot and their relationship is far from perfect, but to this day Dean tries to keep it civil and even improve things between them, if possible. He doesn’t dislike his dad as a person but there’s a lot of shit that went down that just wasn’t okay, things that John’s to blame for. Dean tries to forgive or to move on, to be able to be closer to his dad. He is, after all, the last living relative he has, besides Sammy.

John takes a deep breath and exhales. Apart from being bad at hiding his feelings, he’s also bad at talking about them. “What I’m trying to say is, have you made any friends yet?”

Dean scoffs, suddenly getting defensive, shifting in his seat. It’s one thing to know himself that he’s failing at settling in, but he _really_ doesn’t want his dad to know too; there’s no need for him to worry about that, not when he seems happy to be where he’s at or trying hard to look the part.

“We’ve only been here a week.”

“Sam’s met some kids,” his father points out, making sure he keeps his tone gentle and his concern at a moderate level.

“Yeah, well, good for Sam. I have a slightly tougher crowd.”

“Just be yourself, kid,” John suggests and Dean does everything he can not to roll his eyes at his father, “and give it time. I’m sure you’ll have a ton of friends soon, a cool dude like you.”

Dean snorts. “Thanks, dad,” he teases his dad in a sarcastic tone. 

“I mean it,” John insists, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. Dean can feel his embarrassment, which matches his own, even though his dad’s words still get to him, in a good way. “You’re a good kid, Dean. It’ll be alright. We’ll be alright.”

Something catching at his throat, Dean simply nods and looks away again. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips and some degree of resentment leaves his body. It’ll be alright, someday. The truth is, even after everything John did, Dean wants to love his dad and lately it’s easier.

John’s always been a really handy, practical guy who knows enough about a lot of things so that he doesn’t need to call anyone to do repairs around the house. He takes his time teaching Dean a few important things about keeping a house in good conditions, which none points out but is actually a nice bonding time for them. Not to mention Dean likes the idea of finally having a true home to care of, together, as a family. It’s a first for him.

They spend a few hours working around the house, fixing this and that, weeding the garden, doing their best to decorate the house even though none of them have a sense of style for that sort of thing so they’ve no idea where to put the things they bought from the Bradbury's place. The house looks pretty decent though, at least considering it’s being decorated by two and a half men. John, satisfied by being productive all day, picks up Sam from his friend’s house and spends the rest of the evening watching TV in the living room while Sammy does his homework. Dean retreats into his room where he takes his mother’s diary from under his mattress. He goes over it again, trying to decipher her life, her curious notes, memorizing the symbols she drew here and there in case he ever comes across them and learns what the hell they can possibly mean. He considers asking his father about them or what ‘M.O.L.’ stands for, but he doesn’t want him to find out about the diary and to this day Dean prefers not to talk about her, too afraid to trigger his dad down a dangerous memory lane. It’s better to find out by himself or not at all.

Dean starts his Monday morning with a newfound sense of resolution. This time around he leaves his mother’s diary at home as a promise to himself that he will make an actual effort to talk to someone. Okay, maybe he has a book with himself for backup so he doesn’t have to eat lunch alone staring at his shoes in silence like a pathetic loser, but he gives the mystery of his mother’s journal a rest for today. He keeps his options open, truly anyone will do, but he makes a mental note to try and find Charlie, the friendly redhead from the garage sale. 

He gives himself an actual pep talk and all, which in hindsight is slightly pathetic, but that’s how determined Dean is to make an effort to make this work, because he worked so hard to help his dad to sober up and get his shit together so they could move back here. He really cares which is all the more frustrating when the mood around him, all goddamn morning long, seems bizarre as fuck. Last week he thought he was invisible except for when he had some little embarrassing accident in public, but this week it’s the complete opposite. Maybe he’s being paranoid, but he feels most if not all eyes are on him as he walks down the hallways on the school.

“Do I have something on my face?” Dean asks his brother in a whisper.

Sam checks and confirms, “no. See you later, Dean.”

“Yeah, see ya, Sammy.”

A part of Dean wishes he could go with Sam but he finds his own locker instead, gets his books and heads to class. He’s a few minutes early and he could swear his fellow students turn quiet when he enters the room. He considers saying a general hello but suddenly finds himself wishing he was invisible again; he finally has their attention, but the looks on their faces are not very welcoming at all. If he didn’t know better he’d say they were talking about him, but how could that be? They don’t even know him enough to have something to say.

He quietly sits down at his desk, pretending he doesn’t hear his name being whispered here and there, but inside his levels of anxiety are growing exponentially. Do they know something he doesn’t?

Trying to be as subtle as possible, he slightly turns his head to the side and finds Cas sitting in the opposite side of the room, eyes locked in the book he’s reading, a pleased little smile plastered across that smug yet unquestionably handsome face of his. With a bit of resentment he wonders if Castiel has said something about him, something that puts people to talk about him, because Dean can’t think of another reason why so many people would seem to be giving him the stink-eye at the same time, over night.

 _You’re being ridiculous,_ he reassures himself. _You’re imagining things. Just chill, Dean, damn._

But the feeling follows him around all day. Whenever he turns around, he makes eye contact with someone who immediately averts their eyes and tries to act like they weren’t just staring. He checks himself out in the mirror just in case he did have something and Sammy decided to fuck with him and not tell him, but he looks perfectly fine. 

_What the hell_ , Dean wonders, trying hard to keep his cool.

He has flashbacks to a year ago when he got arrested for stealing some clothes at the mall and the kids at school started treating him like he had the plague afterwards, as if he were the lowest of the low. And sure, maybe then he deserved it what with his shitty attitude and his trouble with the law, although he doubted they had the right to be so severe in their judgement, but this time he had literally done nothing to deserve it.

Could they know about his past run-ins with the law? The school staff had to know, at some level. At least the principal knew. What if they told someone? Was that even legal, weren’t his files confidential or something?

He’s stressing out of his mind and by lunch he’s glad to have an excuse to walk out of the school and sit alone in the bleachers. The fresh air and lack of prying eyes help him clear his head. He could be crazy but he doesn’t think he is. People are looking at him, whispering about him, avoiding him. Something is wrong but he has no idea what or how to fix it.

“Okay, so maybe today’s not your day,” he tells himself, a nervous hand running through his hair. “Maybe we give it another week. Maybe being invisible isn’t so bad.”

Maybe Dean needs to readjust his expectations. He wanted the apple pie life and the dream high school experience, if only for one year; to have a nice group of tight friends and party and make awesome cliche memories, but hey, maybe it’s just not in the cards for him. Perhaps college will be his thing, if his grades even allow him to go that far in his education. He’s not dumb by any means, but his grades had suffered in the past years with all his family issues. Another reason to resent John that he tries not to dwell in. 

It seems to be that the best he can aim for, right now, is to have a healthy dad and a happy brother. That’s no small feat after everything they’ve been through. Why get greedy? He can’t have it all, no one has it all.

Still, as he finds himself lowering his expectations, he can’t help but want to mourn them, his desires, his hopes. It’s only been a week but it’s plain to see this town doesn’t want him. Maybe he’s being dramatic, judging too soon, but he allows himself to feel this way for now, to stop pretending everything’s cool as a cucumber. It’s not, not right now, and he doesn’t want to go back into the building where people will continue to passive aggressively ignore him.

Dean grabs his backpack and heads to the parking lot, sniffling a little bit. He gets into his car and throws his stuff on the backseat, considering his next move.

_Now what?_

As he glances towards the school, a wild idea crosses his mind: Castiel’s still at school and he will be for a few more hours. No Cas at home is like no dragon to fight before getting to the castle, the way is finally free and Dean can finally go check on Castiel's parents without causing a scene with the youngest member of the Novak family.

Dean doesn’t think about it twice, he turns the engine on and hits the gas pedal. Next thing he knows he finds himself looking at the house through the fence with excitement bubbling in his gut. From the distance, he thinks he can see the faint silhouette of a woman by the window of the first floor. He knows he probably shouldn’t but he idolises Clarice almost as much as his mother, especially after reading Mary’s diary which has a lot to say about Clarice and what a great person and friend she was. He’s excited and somehow sure that she’s not going to turn him away, she wouldn’t do that to the son of her beloved friend.

Luckily, the gate is open and Dean marches towards the house. The property is deadly silent and slightly spooky, thick vegetation giving the woods a dark tone to it, but it’s nonetheless somewhat charming. It’s like something out of a movie, preserved in time, and Dean supposes these must be loaded to keep a house and property like this running. The house could use some repairs though, but old houses like this always do.

He goes up the few steps leading to the door two at a time and knocks on the solid wood door with the back of his knuckles, then buries his hands on his pockets and waits for an answer. He can’t help but smile, chewing the inside of cheeks in anticipation. 

A minute goes by and he doesn’t even perceive the faintest of sounds coming from inside the house. He knocks again and takes a few steps back.

“Hello?” he calls out.

Dean gives it another moment but he gets no reply. He grunts in frustration and trots down the stairs, then circles the house to get to the back. 

“Just my luck, if no one is home, I swear— but I thought I saw...”

Around the back of the house there’s a car shed but no car, so it is possible no one’s home. By the edge of the woods there’s an old gazebo that looks damaged by the passing of time and clear lack of maintenance. There’s an old swing hanging from a tree branch which Dean actually recognises from one of the photos he has from his childhood. Other than that, Dean doesn’t see any of the other things that he’s seen in photos, like the garden set of tables and chairs or the things that Clarice used to keep her vegetable garden, which is now gone apparently.

Dean goes up the back porch and again tries knocking on the back door while he tries to take a sneak inside through the window.

“Hello? I’m Dean. Dean Winchester. Is anyone home?”

This time he thinks he hears something or someone, but he can’t quite make out what the noise is or what they’re saying. Is it an invitation? He sure as well hopes it is because Dean finds himself reaching for the door handle, which by the way has the odd shape of an octopus tentacle. As soon as he touches it Dean has the disturbing feeling that the octopus’ suckers actually try to pull from his skin, but the feeling is gone as soon as it happened and he opens the door while an uncomfortable shiver runs down his spine.

He comes into a kitchen which is rather large kitchen which is a little too dark but otherwise uninteresting, and cautiously makes his way in.

“Hi! I’m, err, looking for Clarice. Clarice Novak? Or Charles? Or, hmm, Gabriel. Is anyone home?”

Dean moves slowly to avoid startling anyone who could be in. He has the feeling he’s doing something stupid, the saying _curiosity killed the cat_ popping in his mind once or twice, but the more he thinks about it the more he convinces himself he did see someone looking at him through the window and he’ll be damned if he skips this perfect opportunity to get a one on one with Clarice or Charles after waiting his entire goddamn life for it.

The entry hall actually draws a low ‘ _wow_ ’ from Dean. The large room has more things than he has time to inspect, but the dramatic room is by far the most peculiar he’s ever seen in a house, ever. It’s dark, with a bright red carpeting going up the stairs, thick curtains and wood panel walls which are adorned with several different paintings; a few portraits and some really fucking weird biblical depictions he doesn’t have the time to study at the moment. There’s a grand piano and armchairs and small tables with curious little things on them, more books than Dean’s read in his entire life and a collection of different kinds of skulls. It’s like an explosion on random shit occurred in there, things that his family has probably kept for generations.

He looks around with his mouth hanging open until he spots a woman at the top of the stairs looking down at him with relaxed curiosity. He jumps when he sees her as if _she_ were the intruder and not the other way around. She mimics his reaction and takes a step back, although at no point she appears to be afraid of him.

The woman seems to be well in her late 50s or early 60s, all about her look a bit old fashioned but fitting for her nonetheless. She’s but a little pale, moving oddly slow, making no noise at all. Something about her rings a bell but Dean can’t quite place where she’s seen her before, if he ever has.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. My name’s Dean,” he explains quickly, then figures it’s better to lie to explain why he took the liberty of entering the house. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I thought I heard someone telling me to come in. I— I saw you through the window.”

“Really?” she replies, her brows drawing together ever so slightly with curiosity. “I didn’t think you’d see me.”

Dean’s quiet for a moment, a big weirded out by her comment. Was she hiding from him? What’s that supposed to mean?

“Well, I did.”

“And how did you get in?”

“Through the backdoor,” he admits, cheeks burning hot with embarrassment. “Like I said, I thought I heard someone telling me to come in.”

“Huh,” is all she says, giving no sign of it if she doesn’t believe him. She doesn’t seem to think too much of his weak explanation or his unanticipated presence. “That’s quite odd, that door is always locked." Then, as an afterthought, she adds, "you should not be in here.”

“I know,” he admits.

“You should be at school.”

“Yeah, probably. See, I am—”

“Mary’s boy. I know who you are, love. I’ve known you since you were born and I’ve seen you since you returned.” As she smiles at him rather fondly, Dean frowns and racks his brain trying to remember seeing her around town; he’s pretty damn sure he hasn't but he doesn’t interrupt her. “I am glad to see you again and I wish you could stay and chat—we never get any visits here, but I believe Gabriel will be back soon and he won't be too happy to see you here.”

"I—I was just hoping to have a word with Clarice. Or Charles. When will they be home?"

She doesn't need to say a thing to answer his question, Dean can read it in her face the moment he says their names. The sadness in her fragile, pale features is evident. She retreats into herself, taking a step back as she turns away from him. It was the wrong thing to ask he realises, but this is what he came for.

"I'm afraid they can’t come home..." she speaks in a voice so low he can barely hear her from the ground floor, Dean holds his breath and strains himself to do it. “They’re never coming home, they’re gone… gone…” 

He knows better than to ask and yet he can't help himself. She starts absentmindedly walking away towards the corridor, her slim figure almost disturbingly blending in with the dark, becoming one with it, as if she were disappearing.

"What happened to them? Where are they?" he insists to know, he _needs_ to know. Judging by her reaction, he feels like the answer is obvious—dead, they're dead—, but as his hands shake and his heart beats so fast in his throat with an overpowering feeling of dismay, he also refuses to believe it. It can't be, not them too, it can't _all_ be the opposite of what he'd been expecting to find in this town.

"She's in the garden," she replies faintly, pointing an ghostly pale hand towards the back of the house, "and he's in Hell."

Dean gapes up at her as she disappears, wondering what the hell to make of that, what it means. She doesn't say goodbye or sees him off, just leaves him standing there, utterly confused and frankly really upset. He's quick on his feet though, dashing out the kitchen door leading to the back and looking around the property in search of Clarice but there's still no one around he can spot or hear. At the edge of the woods, near the gazebo, he sees a barely there trail leading into the trees, one that’s formed naturally by regular use and not intent. He runs towards it without thinking, his brain in auto mode, driven only by impulses and hopes that are too stubborn to die just yet. He has no idea what he's doing, what he's expecting to find or what to make of what he's learned, all he knows is he wants to find her, the promise of a woman who's going to love him as her own, an _almost_ mother figure that will welcome him home. That's what Mary always said in her diaries, that Clarice loved Dean as his own and Mary loved Cas just the same, and Dean is honestly desperate for that, to have a bigger, happier family, to have someone to turn to if John ever falls off the wagon again. To have someone remember his birthday and bake him a cake, or give him Christmas presents, help him with the homework he doesn’t get or whatever parents are supposed to do with their kids. He wouldn’t know.

The air is surprisingly thick inside those woods, the dense vegetation not letting in much sunlight and creating a rather dark environment that screams haunted—if you believe in that sort of thing, which Dean doesn't. And still, something about the stillness of it all combined with the disturbing feeling that he isn't quite alone in there makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand. It's like there's a silent voice coming from somewhere, not calling him but whispering around him, _about_ him, although no sound at all reaches his ears, not even the birds singing. It's not that the place isn't beautiful but it feels charged. With what, Dean's not sure.

Following the trail, it doesn't take him long until he sees a white figure between the vegetation. He stops dead on his tracks, his foolish heart claiming victory for one whole second before he sees properly between the bushes and leaves and realises it’s just a fucking statue. Dean swallows through the lump in his throat and hesitates; a part of him doesn’t want to continue and see what’s beyond because it already knows what’s there, knows it’s not what he wants. But the other side of him, the one that wants answers, forces him to take one step after the other until he reaches her. The statue of the woman bears an uncanny resemblance to the lady it represents; Clarice, no doubt. The details on it are amazing and while Dean takes a momentary sit next to her, it makes him feel sick how realistic the thing is. He actually finds it kind of distasteful. Who would want to make a statue like that, with that sad expression on her face, when she was such a happy, lovely woman? What a tragic tribute to her life.

Before leaving he takes a quick look around in search of flowers. He sees a few little blue ones here and there and plucks them to then carefully lay them down on the status’ lap. He wants to say something but he has no idea what; how do you say goodbye to someone you cannot even remember?

With tears in his eyes, he hurries away from that awful place. He trips on a branch hidden by leaves and scrapes his hands to avoid landing on his face. He doesn’t care, he gets to his feet again and leaves the woods. As he walks towards his car, he’s startled for a second as he thinks he sees something from the corner of his eye, some sort of shadow sitting in the swing, but when he looks again there’s nothing there. A cold chill runs down his spine— he could have _sworn_ he saw the silhouette of what seemed to be a child.

When he reaches the car, he doesn’t waste a moment looking back. A few tears run down his face on the way home but he refuses to break down and cry. _Not now, at least,_ he tells himself, _but later, when it’s dark and you’re alone and no one can see you._ That’s the Winchester way, after all. He tries and tries but the more Dean attempts to bury his feelings, the more they resurface to slap him on the face. Eventually he pulls over by the side of the road and starts hyperventilating, recognising what can be nothing but a panic attack.

He feels like a fucking idiot. All this time he dreamt of his perfect little family he could come crashing into that would solve all his problems, fix his own family and give him the life he always wanted, the perfect, drama free apple pie life. What a fool! There was no perfect family, no perfect life, no perfect house or school, no perfect town. Nothing was perfect and everything sucked. _Everything_ sucked. 

_Not everything_ , a courageous little voice inside of him argues. He’s had this discussion with himself earlier today, anyway. _Dad hasn’t had a drink in months, he has a job, and he and Sam are happy, and we have a stable home..._

_Maybe— maybe we’ll just take turns being happy. Gotta get their shit together first, then it’s my turn._

_College. College will be my turn._

Slowly, he calms down. He rests his forehead on the steering wheel for a few minutes, sniffles like crazy and wipes his tears with the back of his hand, feeling almost ashamed of himself for even crying out in public in the first place. It’s not that he’s okay—he’s pretty fucking far from that—but little by little he reaches a point of tired resignation. And he’s only been in town for one fucking week. 

When he realises that, he says, out loud, to himself, “Jesus Christ, that escalated quickly.”

He chuckles, because what the Hell else is he going to do?, and sighs, then heads home.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to point out Jensen is obviously older than he's supposed to be in the story in the gifs you'll see ahead but fuck it, they are coming your way anyway cause I am a sucker for gifs.

John gives his son an earful when he gets a call from the school letting him know his son was seen leaving the school way before the classes were over. On the inside Dean’s happy that’s _all_ he knows, that he doesn’t know that Dean actually broke into someone’s house while he was at it. Well, at least John doesn’t know _yet._ Dean honestly spends the rest of the afternoon and evening waiting for the Novak brothers to show up all angry and righteous after that weird lady tells them he just took the liberty to take a stroll around their property _and_ house like he owned it.

“I thought we were supposed to have a fresh start here, Dean!” John yells, throwing his arms around. “You said—no, you _promised_ you were going to take school seriously, you promised no more smoking, no more stealing, no more cutting class. I gave you the car as a display of trust, to go to _school_ , not to go wherever the hell you want whenever it pleases you! What the hell were you thinking?”

Sam’s in the bedroom, as if it made a difference and he couldn’t hear them just fine through the paper thin walls, while they argue. Well, more like John raises his voice and Dean, too tired to bicker and fully aware that his dad’s actually right ( _that’s_ new), just sits there and takes it.

“We make all this effort, mentally and financially, as a family, we come all this way, we get this _one_ good thing finally going, and you can’t even make it a _week_ before you start pulling shit like this? Jesus, Dean! Even _I’ve_ lasted longer than that this time! And I know I have no fucking moral high ground here, I’ve done my fair share of stupid shit, but dammit it, Dean, I am your father and if I’m pulling my shit together, you better too, boy. This is what parents do, so you’re grounded! I’m not sure how yet, but you are. For starters, this week you’re coming home straight from school every day, are we clear?”

At least Dean’s glad his dad accepts his own flaws while he’s angry. That’s _also_ new.

If he weren’t feeling so down, Dean would laugh at the grounded part. It’s not like Dean has any friends to hang out with anyway or anywhere he’d rather be than at home, with the only two people in town who seem to like him.

“Yes… I’m sorry, dad.”

And honestly, he means it. Part of him wishes he’d never left school and gone to that house in the first place.

“Where were you?” he demands to know with the intensity of a man who thinks he needs to stand his ground, as if Dean would put up a fight and not tell him, like in the old times when Dean skipping school meant he was probably up to no good and keeping it a secret.

But to John’s surprise, Dean tells him right away, his son’s glassy green eyes catching him off guard.

“I went to the Novaks’,” he admits, then gulps as he feels a reminder of the wave of emotions he went through that afternoon. “I just wanted to meet her—Clarice. And Charles.”

The truthfulness and innocence of his answer seems to disconcert John who for a second just stands there, hands on his hips in that typical angry-parent-stand, but then he finally relaxes and joins Dean by his side on the couch. He tries to be gentle, like he’s rarely ever been, when he speaks next.

“Did something happen…?”

Dean takes a deep breath. Just thinking about it makes his stomach twist uncomfortably. “No, I just— they weren’t there.”

“Okay…” John, despite being very confused, is trying hard to be understanding, Dean can see that. “So, we can just go another time, Dean. You don’t have to skip school for that.”

“Dad,” Dean starts softly, afraid of how his dad will take bad news because that’s just engraved in Dean’s instincts now, fear of John’s reactions, “I think they’re dead.”

In silence, John stares back at his son for a few generous seconds. He averts his eyes and frowns, thinking hard. “I thought I heard— but I thought they meant they moved or something… Jesus—”

He sits back on the couch, jaw set and eyes lost into nothingness. Dean taps his foot anxiously on the floor, watching his dad and studying his every facial expression. He’s waiting for him to collapse or have some sort of outburst, to give into the excuse he needs to go back to drinking. After all, this isn’t the first time he’s tried to stop drinking, but to his merit this is the longest he’d kept sober. He usually failed after just a few days in the past.

“I saw Gabriel at the store just this weekend, he didn’t say anything… Is Cas…?”

Dean shakes his head. “He’s in my class.”

“And?”

“And what?”

John raises an eyebrow, giving Dean a look that says _don’t play dumb_. “And, did you introduce yourself or something? I know you were looking forward to meeting him. Them. All of them.”

Dean shrugs. Castiel Novak is the last person he wants to talk about, especially right now. “He doesn’t seem eager to get to know me, dad.”

Thankfully, John doesn’t ask him to explain himself but merely presses his lips together and nods. Then he takes a deep, slow breath and pats Dean on the back a few times. Gone is the anger, replaced with sympathy too quickly for what Dean’s used to. He never knows what to expect of sober John, he’s such a different guy. An actual nice guy.

“This isn’t turning out the way you expected, huh?” he asks softly.

Dean, refusing to dump his issues into his dad, shrugs his worries off. “It’s alright.”

“It’s okay if it’s not.”

“Like you said, it’s only been a week.”

Leaning forward a little to meet Dean’s eyes, he says, “as long as you mean that and you’re not just saying it to act tough. I’m the parent, you’re the kid. Let me worry about you and worry less about me.”

Dean holds his stare for only a moment, then averts his eyes and leans back on the couch. Sober John is such a different man from drunk John. A definite improvement, but Dean just doesn’t know what to do with it sometimes. It’s weird to be able to talk to him like normal people, like father and son. When sober, John’s actually not a half bad dad but it’s hard for Dean to let go of his own role of caretaker, of being the strong pillar out of the three of them. It’s hard to show softness like his dad does now. That online therapist is doing wonders with his dad. As much as he likes the change though, Dean keeps his walls up, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It always does.

“I’m very sorry to hear about Charles and Clarice, they were really nice people and I know you were looking forward to meeting them.” John then pauses, as if gathering his courage and says, “you know, if you want to have someone to talk to about your mom… you can ask me. I’m not just gonna… _shatter_ if you say her name.”

“Aren’t you, though?” Dean says before he can help himself. He feels instantly guilty about it but they all know it’s the truth, that Mary’s always been a sensitive subject they avoided talking about because it was too painful for either of them.

A pained grimace flashes across John’s face, his eyes charged with the guilt he carries for being such a lousy father for too damn long. “Give me some credit, kid, I’m really trying here.”

Dean gives his dad a tired but still honest smile. “I know, dad. Sorry. I just really want this to last.”

“I know, me too. And I know I’ve made promises before but… I’m _really_ trying, okay?”

Dean nods and then, out of impulse, throws his arms around his dad. It’s kind of awkward at first, they really haven’t done this a lot, but it feels good too. For a second Dean does feel like just a kid in his dad’s arms, being comforted and cared for, and it’s really, _really_ nice to have that with John.

When John pulls away, he smirks and points a finger at Dean, “you’re grounded, don’t forget that.”

“Too bad, I’m just going to have to cancel all the parties I’ve been invited to,” Dean jokes.

The whole day goes by without a word from the Novaks which Dean is extremely grateful for, but what he doesn’t know is it’s not because they’re not mad about what he did but because they _can’t_ really say anything.

“He came here? He came _into_ the house?” Castiel asks his grandmother, eyes wide with shock. For as long as he’s lived no one in town has ever come into their house uninvited and they’ve always been escorted by one of the brothers, and even then it’s a very rare occurrence. The Novaks don’t usually have guests, with the exception of some of Gabriel’s friends from Hell and distant cousins. “How’s that possible?” he asks as he turns towards his brother. “How was he able to open the gates _and_ the back door? The tentacle should have grabbed his hand and stopped him. What do we even have that thing for if it won’t do its job?”

“In theory, it should have,” Gabriel agrees as he taps his chin with a finger, “but, Cas, he’s a hunter.”

“He doesn’t even _know_ he’s a hunter.”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s in his blood, he’s not just _any_ mortal so the defensive magic around the property won’t work on him, it doesn’t scare him away, and if in his eyes we’re friends, not foe, the house will greet him as a friend too, it won’t harm him.”

“He _broke in_ ,” Castiel heatedly disagrees. “Friends don’t do that.”

“He didn’t come with bad intentions and the house knows it. You say he was looking for dad and Clarice?” he asks as he turns again towards his brother’s grandmother.

She nods rather sadly, staring off the window melancholically. She doesn’t usually like to speak about her daughter, it sends her off into a depressive black hole from which it’s hard for the boys to pull her out. 

“And what did you tell him?”

“The truth.”

Castiel’s mouth falls open in a panicked silent scream, hands flying to pull his hair, but Gabriel abruptly holds a hand in front of his face and continues his interrogation.

“Which is what, exactly?”

“She’s in the garden and he’s in Hell.”

Gabriel snorts, clearly relieved by the answer, earning a dirty look from his younger brother. “What? That’s great. Kid must be confused as fuck about that. Most likely assumes they’re dead. I mean, most people think so anyway.”

“This isn’t funny, Gabriel. What if he comes back and finds something he shouldn’t? Like, oh, I don’t know, _evidence of witchcraft_!”

But his brother merely shrugs and slumps in one of the red armchairs, adopting a seemingly relaxed position with his legs crossed. His lack of preoccupation seems to drive Cas up the wall. He wants him to take it seriously, he wants Gabe to feel as escandalized as he is over the fact that a hunter broke into their home.

“I don't think he will be back, Cas, there’s nothing here for him now.”

“You don’t know for sure! _You’re_ always telling me we need to watch our backs, keep the family secret _a secret_ , and it doesn’t bother you that he broke in? We should call the police, to teach him a lesson.”

“And tell them what, exactly, Cas?” Gabe argues, getting a little tired of the subject. “You were at school and I was seen in public by a lot of people at the time. It’s not like we have cameras here, so how are we supposed to know he broke in unless we tell them the _ghost_ of your grandmother had a chat with him?”

The brothers turn to look at the lady by the window. Castiel’s grandmother, a grieving and gentle soul he found in the cemetery when he was a child long ago, sits by the window with a weary air about her. Sometimes he worries about her, sometimes he feels like her soul is deteriorating, fading away. Her ghost used to be much brighter but with time it’s become a bit more translucent, weak. She’s grown quiet and engrossed in her own thoughts. Cas wonders if she’s fading away and if it would be kinder to just put her to rest—he could, he knows the spell, but he can’t bring himself to do it, Gabriel and her grandmother are the only real family he’s got there with him.

“He shouldn’t get away with it.”

“I think that this is less about Dean per se and more about you antagonizing the guy because you can’t make up your mind about what you wanna do about the door to Hell. You’re still on your mission to have people chasing him out of town, aren’t you?”

Castiel chews the insides of his cheeks, debating with himself for an answer. Is he? He thinks he is. He hasn’t made a choice yet.

“It’s not like that,” he says but it doesn’t convince himself, let alone Gabriel.

“I think it is. Look, take your time to make up your mind, it’s not like we’re in a hurry to see our family, but trust me on this. If he starts telling people—actual adults with authority— that he spoke to her,” his brother continues in a more serious tone, one that calls a warning for the younger sibling, “that’s going to create a lot of unwanted attention for us. Everyone thinks it’s just the two of us here, Cas. For _generations_ people have believed we’re pretty fucking weird and that the land is haunted.

“I’m okay with sensational rumours as long as it keeps them away from my house but I don’t want them to get _confirmation_ that there’s supernatural crap going on here, okay? Nor do I want the police doing any sort of investigation on us; been there, done that, it’s very hard to deflect their research without being suspicious as fuck. _And_ I don’t want other hunters coming our way either. Those won’t be as friendly as the Winchesters. So keep your head down and your mouth shut, okay?”

Cas rolls his eyes but at the same time he understands Gabriel’s point. He’s drilled the same message into Castiel’s brain all his life; be careful with your magic, don’t use it in public, beware of hunters ‘cause they’re not all friendly and they don’t have to respect the peace treaty if they don’t want to. The Men of Letters, the society the Campbells belonged to, overall agreed to respect the peace treaties their various members signed with different families of witches and other travellers from Hell across the country, even if the treaty didn’t directly bind them by magic to hold up the peace, but there are hunters out there who do _not_ belong to the Men of Letters and who still despise witches enough to hunt and harm them. Gabriel would gladly kill anyone who even so much as threatened their family—Cas specifically, as he is the only one left on Earth—but he rather not have to.

“Cas,” Gabriel repeats, an warning in his tone, “did you hear me? No police.”

“Fine,” his brother finally complies reluctantly, “no police.”

No police were Gabriel’s orders so no police were involved, but Castiel takes it upon himself to confront Dean the next morning, very publicly in the hallway before heading to class. He still hasn’t made up his mind about what he’s going to do, if he’s going to help Gabriel get Dean’s blood to open the bunker and risk the apocalypse or if he wants to keep the doors closed and his mother turned into a giant piece of stone forever, so he keeps up his efforts to alienate Dean from everyone, to give him a bad reputation.

Dean’s minding his own business, standing by his locker when Castiel gathers his courage—and honesty gets ready to get his ass _kicked_ —, walks up to him and pushes him against the wall.

“If you ever break into my house again, there will be some _serious_ consequences, Winchester. Do I make myself clear?” Cas spats on his face.

His rage is real but also forced. He’s not used to being confrontational, much less yelling at people. It feels simultaneously glorious and awful, a power trip _and_ a guilt trip. He has an almost irresistible impulse to cause more damage but his heart tells him to stop, that he’s done enough to Dean in just a little over a week. Lately a wild dichotomy inside him tears him apart, eats at him like something he’s never felt before. Something awakens in him when he allows himself to be angry and mischievous, something dark that he hadn’t felt since he stopped cursing his bullies in revenge when he was younger and ended up accidentally breaking Dick Roman’s arm. It’s scary but also addictive, and it’s definitely something about his magic and his connection with Hell, the power he draws from it. It's the seed of evil that Satan planted in him and it scares him.

The hallway goes completely quiet, every pair of eyes is on them, from younger kids to even a few of their classmates. Dean’s eyes are wide, a parade of emotions flashing through his eyes. Castiel doesn’t relent, he stares into his enemy’s eyes with righteous fury and doesn’t show any sign of fear of getting his ass kicked, even if he’s expecting it.

But Dean doesn’t make any move on him, doesn’t even seem to be thinking of causing an argument. Instead, to his surprise (and a little bit of disappointment too) Dean apologises right way.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to—to meet your family. Your parents. I’m sorry for your loss. Seriously. I know what it’s like—”

Cas sucks in a breath and takes a step back before he can give into the impulse of punching the green eyed guy standing in front of him. “You don’t know _anything_ ,” Cas hisses through gritted teeth.

How _dare_ he compare their situation? It was _his_ mother, after all, who betrayed the Novaks and locked them away. And yeah, sure, Clarice had something to do with it too and Castiel will probably always have to wonder why, but at least Dean still has a father. Cas lost practically everything because of the Winchesters. If the Campbells hadn’t asked the Novaks for help during the murders, Charles wouldn’t have gone away and he wouldn’t have given the key to his wife and Mary would have never closed the door to Hell, locking away forever the one person who was trying to help, who had helped them for _decades_. So how dare Dean compare anything about them?

“Stay away from my house and my family. Last warning.”

The effect of this brief altercation between them in people’s minds is instantaneous. The confirmation that Dean is capable of doing something like breaking into someone’s home, no matter the reason, fuels the unfounded rumours that had been spreading around thanks to Castiel’s spell. People try to get more juicy details from Cas but one pissed off look from him keeps them from asking twice. They don’t have to know the facts to get carried away though, Castiel hears his fellow students whispering all kinds of conspiracy theories about Dean all morning. The young witch hears them say Dean has a criminal record, that his family had to move away because Dean got in so much trouble, that he was actually trying to rob the Novaks, that he’s not right in the head. The atmosphere around the school is charged with gossip and a strong dislike for the figure of Dean Winchester, who has now become a pariah in their safe little town, just like Cas wanted, just like he planned. And still, he finds himself averting his eyes when he sees Dick Roman throwing paper balls at Dean’s head all through history class when the teacher has his back to them.

Charlie, bless her source, is able to unknowingly fight through the spell. She notices the treatment Dean’s getting because of the confrontation the boys had earlier that morning and tries to bring it up at lunch, of course she does, but Castiel simply needs to tell his friends he doesn’t want to talk about it to change the subject. 

“Okay, it’s your business,” Benny agrees, if not a little reluctantly, “but, I don’t know, brother, you could have, you know, just talked to him about it.”

Apparently Benny’s kindness is also able to fend of some of the effects of the spell. He’s not one to gossip or seek reasons to dislike or bully someone (none of Castiel’s friends are which is why they are his friends in the first place), so he isn’t charmed by the simple spell so easily.

“I’m not going to ask someone _nicely_ not to break into my house, Benny,” Cas retorts, trying to keep his frustration out of his voice. The last thing he wants is for this whole deal with Dean to affect his relationship with his friends.

“Yeah, I know, but I heard he said something about wanting to meet your parents, and my mom told me your mums were very closed. He probably didn’t know she’s—”

A tense silence settles between them as Benny stops dead on his tracks all of a sudden. Dead, missing, he can’t quite pick the word or bring himself to say it. He swallows hard as he holds Castiel's gaze, measuring his response, hoping he didn’t touch a nerve there. He definitely did.

Castiel buries the urge to pick up a fight with every fiber in his being and breaks the eye contact first. He’s buzzing with the need to throw punches today and he can’t quite understand why. This is Benny, after all, not Dean.

“Can we just change the subject?” he mutters in a deliberately neutral tone. Dean is one thing, but he refuses to be an ass with his own friends, the best people he’s ever met.

Charlie slips her hand under the table and grabs his. He knows she still has something to say about his behaviour but for now at least she keeps it to herself and offers him a comforting smile.

“What do you guys say we watch a movie this weekend, huh?” she suggests. “Satanic—”

“Not Satanic Panic,” Benny groans.

“Yes, come on, guys!” she beams. “ _Please_. Please, please, please!”

“Why don’t you just watch it on your own?”

“That’s no fun!”

“I’ll watch it with you,” Garth says. He’s okay doing just about anything as long as it’s legal and they’re having a good time.

Charlie high fives him with enthusiasm and turns to Cas. “Satanic Panic?”

Castiel rolls his eyes. He’s seen the trailer and can’t help but find those kinds of movies slightly offensive. _Sure_ , there actually _are_ witches and satanists who kidnap and sacrifice virgins, but when is someone going to make a movie about a good old friendly witch neighbour like them? It’s not that exciting, he mainly just curses bullies who deserve it, but hey, representation matters.

Not that he can actually argue about this with his friends, who have no idea what he really is.

Knowing that Charlie will sooner or later convince him to watch it, he silently nods.

“Okay, Benny, you’re either in or an absolutely party pooper, your choice, man.”

“Alright, alright. But you’re in charge of the popcorn.”

And so the subject of Dean Winchester is dropped at lunch but it haunts Castiel down the rest of the week. At first Dean seems to take things in stride, to simply ignore the obvious whispering around him, the snickering and teasing in his direction, even the small but still annoying ways Dick and his small crew of dicks use to torment him. Castiel’s experienced some of it first-hand years ago, because Cas cursed them so much they actually starting fearing him a little bit, enough that they chose to ignore him rather than bullying him; they leave mean notes in Dean’s desk, pretend to put things away when he walks by them to keep Dean from stealing, they continue that annoying habit of throwing things at his head and accidentally-on-purpose bump into him on the hallways. Dean does his best not to allow it to get to him, to let it provoke him, but on Friday morning he’s finally had enough. He arrived early to the classroom—big mistake is Castiel’s experience, always arrive as late as possible if you’re being bullied, to avoid contact with those assholes—and sat down, minding his own business as usual, trying to pass as invisible, but Dick’s eyes starting glowing with hunger the moment Dean came in.

“Hey, Winchester,” he calls out loudly to bring attention to himself, that stupid, arrogant smile of his plastered in his face, “is it true you have a criminal record?”

The few students that are in the classroom fall silent and turn towards Dean, not to antagonize him per se but because they’re curious. Two of Dick’s friends laugh behind him, the dumb sheep they are. Dean slowly turns on his seat, giving no sign of being bothered or offended by the question.

“If you weren’t so dumb you’d know minors don’t have criminal records, they have youth records. So no, I don’t have a criminal record.”

Dick stands up from his desk, smug expression changed for one of anger. For someone who likes to pick on people, Dick has a very low tolerance threshold for getting some of his own medicine.

“What did you say?” he asks in a tone that's meant to be threatening.

Completely calm, Dean replies, “I’m sorry, did I stutter?”

One of the girls in the classroom makes a silent ‘o’ with her slips and smiles broadly at Dean’s bold response. 

“Look, I don’t know who you are and I don’t care what you’ve done but you’d better show me some respect. Do you have any idea who I am?”

Castiel rolls his eyes. Before he can help himself, he finds himself saying, “no, Dick, he’s lived here for less than two weeks. Your dad being the mayor doesn’t make you a celebrity, no one cares.”

He doesn’t mean to defend Dean but he truly dislikes Dick way more than he could ever dislike Dean. He antagonizes the newcomer for ethical reasons only, to protect the town, not because there’s really something truly bad about him. 

“Shut up, freak, nobody asked you,” Dick hisses at him although shallow and weak insults are as far as Dick allows himself to go with Castiel these days. Of course it’s not like he _knows_ Castiel has cursed him but Cas subconsciously trained the guy to associate bullying Cas with strange little accidents or nuisances automatically happening to him. Like the time an awfully big spider landed on his head in the middle of a class and he squealed like a pig, or when he had homoerotic dreams about Cas for a week straight or when he slipped and failed to score a very easy point at a football match and his eyes locked with the witch’s just as he did to see him smiling broadly, absolutely pleased with the situation. 

Cas doesn’t take the insult to heart but to his surprise Dean jumps to defend him. “Don’t call him freak, jackass.”

“Oh, no,” one of the girls mutters to herself, foreseeing Dick’s response just as easily as anyone who’s known him for long enough can, but before the jock can even so much as formulate a thought or take a step in Dean’s direction, the teacher comes in and greets them with a broad smile, completely oblivious to the tension in the room.

The students settle down, Dick sets his jaw and takes a seat. From across the room, Dean and Castiel’s eyes meet. Dean offers him a tentative smile—for truce, maybe?—but Cas doesn’t return it. Conflicted with his actions and his thoughts, he just brings his attention back to his book and focuses on his class.

Dean sees that something’s weighing on Castiel, what with that worried look on his face and that constant frown, the long glances out the window. Something troubles him. Dean wishes he knew what it was, he wishes he could understand him. One moment he’s yelling at Dean, the other he’s standing up to the school bully to help him out. It confuses him a lot. A part of his brain tells him he should dislike Castiel, who has been nothing but unpleasant with him for the most part, but another one refuses to do so. It's the same part that feels a magnetic pull towards the blue eyed boy. Dean's just drawn to him, even if he doesn't know why.

Either way, by the end of his second week there Dean’s pretty much given up on the idea of making friends. Not _forever_ , of course, but he’s not trying to force it anymore. If it happens, great, if it doesn’t then he’s got more time to study and also research this occultism crap he’s been reading about all week. He’s been making an effort to live up to his promise, to do well in school and stay out of trouble. Dick Roman can throw paper balls at his head all he wants like a fucking toddler, he’s not going to make Dean snap that easily. He owes it to his dad to stay in line at least for as long as Roman doesn’t throw a punch. _Then_ it’s game on, his dad would never tell him not to defend himself if someone’s taking a swing at him. Dean would love to beat the crap out of that small town douchebag who thinks he’s a big deal, he can’t wait for the inevitable moment when that happens, his patience wearing thin between his hatred for the guy and how tired he is lately what with his stupid, relentless nightmares. For now he’s taking the high road, rolling his eyes at Dick and his friends like they’re not worth his time.

This seems to impress her new lab partner. She’s an obviously beautiful young girl with a British accent and the word posh written all over her forehead. Bela’s smug face stirs instinctive dislike in Dean but he fights his judgements in favour of trying to be on friendly terms with at least one person at school. Beggars can’t be choosers.

“So you’re the guy Dick has been fixating in, huh? Heard you called him jackass yesterday, is that true?” she asks. It all seems rather amusing to her, instead of finding Dean's bullying troublesome or regrettable. 

“He had it coming,” Dean replies nonchalantly as his eyes scan through the instructions of the experiment they need to do.

“I bet he did,” she chuckles. “How did you live to tell the tail though? Let’s just say he doesn't take criticism well.”

“Class started.”

“I see. Saved by the bell.”

Dean shrugs, not one bit scared or intimidated by Roman. “I could take him.” And, honestly, Dean really thinks he could, he’s not one bit intimidated by that guy.

Bela snorts, leaning over the table with her elbows in a way that Dean is surprised to find flirtatious, as if to show him her cleavage. Is she into him? “That’s a bold statement. So I guess it’s true? The rumours that you’re this sort of troublemaker I mean.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear, sweetheart,” Dean responds, flirting back just in case he’s right about her. “Load of fake news out there.”

Judging by her response, he thinks she is, in fact, 100% flirting. She's making eyes at him and she knows he knows that. “Too bad, I love to drive my parents crazy dating boys they wouldn’t approve of,” she jokes but Dean thinks she’s partly serious.

He laughs and for now the flirting stops so they can focus on the assignment, but Bela’s generous with easy smiles and lingering, hungry gazes. She likes what she sees and Dean thinks he does too, even if normally he prefers guys. Again, beggars can’t be choosers. He went from no social life to a potential love interest with a girl who is just a tad annoying but openly friendly to him so he’s going to take it as a win.

Both boys are emotionally exhausted by the end of the week. Castiel spends his Friday night in front of the magic mirror, watching reruns of his childhood memories,the best hits. Dean is undoubtedly still in his mind so the mirror, which channels his thoughts into images, shows him the boys taking turns in the swing as Clarice gently pushes them. When it’s Cas’ turn, Dean sits on the grass and cheers for him, praising how high he’s getting even though it’s not higher than he did himself and not a meter further from the hands of his mother. They’re inseparable, together day and night. They share a bed and try to read books with a flashlight, even though neither of them knows how to read, but Dean pretends he can, to impress Cas, and makes stories to entertain him.

Castiel brings his knees close to his chest and hugs his legs, trying to figure out the turmoil inside of him. Who is he going to pick, the world or his mother? He hasn’t decided and can’t imagine how he will ever be able to make that decision, and still, almost out of habit by now, he curses Dean and Sam’s dreams with nightmares before going to bed himself. The satisfaction he normally feels when cursing someone is subdued though, overwhelmed by the guilt as all he sees in his mind are the memories of that small boy that adored him.

Dean grabs the family laptop, the only one they all share because that’s about all they can afford, and takes it to his room that night to research until the odd hours of the night. His eyes burn with the need to sleep but he’s sure that, once again, the stupid nightmares will haunt him so what’s the point? 

He manages to find the book about the Italian witches that her mother had apparently been interested in; Aradia, or the Gospel of the Witches, from 1899. Even better, he finds bits of the book online too rather easily. He matches the spells Mary had kept to a chapter on spells used to find or buy anything, or to have good fortune. He’s not sure why but it’s a relief to see the spell his mother had kept in her diary had a rather innocent use. Not that he believed in any of that magic and witchcraft crap anyway.

Maybe his mom was just interested in that kind of stuff for the sake of historical curiosity. It’s fairly interesting, Dean has to admit, once you start digging into it, the sort of things people believed in, the things they did and the violence around it all—not from the witches’ side, but so-called righteous men who were acting in the name of God or something and killed anyone they thought might be a witch. Dean reads about it for hours. First he reads about witches in general, anything he can get his hands on, until he learns of the Malleus Maleficarum or Hammer of Witches. He finds it without much effort but doesn’t have the patience or energy to properly read it. The style is so old and the content charged with hate, it is unbearable for his tired mind. However, from it he takes an interest in demons, as the book talks about them all the time as the ones the witches are tempted by. This takes him to research Christian demonology (and by now he’s really struggling to stay awake but fuck it, it’s Friday night). In Dean’s opinion everyone’s full of shit for there seems to be no consensus about anything at all, people just randomly make shit up through the years like this one Bishop, Alphonso de Spina, who said there were exactly 133,306,668 demons. Conveniently enough, Dean can’t find how that dude got to that revelation.

There are general agreements though, an important one being that humans were able to invoke demons and bring them to Earth using magical rites, charms and symbols. That’s when he comes across The Lesser Key of Solomon, a very old spell book on demonology. Dean sits up and finds himself suddenly awake when he finds a pdf version of the book because he recognises some of the symbols his mother had doodled on her diary. Seals, she drew seals, rings that gave people power to command and conjure demons, to perform magic and create amulets and talismans, not necessarily for dark magic, but for protection and good intentions as well he realizes when he finally finds one of the seals she drew in her diary when going through a book by Carl Nagel called The Black Seals of the King Solomon. 

The black seal of Sabnack, he reads, can be used for creating a protective occult barrier around a building. The book also comes with instructions on how to use it.

Suddenly, his dad bursts through the door without knocking which causes Dean to jump so sincerely and dramatically after hours of reading about witchcraft and demons and dark topics that he almost drops the computer to the floor.

“Jesus, dad! Don’t you knock!”

“No!” John growls as he takes the computer away. “You’re grounded, remember? No late night video games for you, young man!”

“I wasn’t playing video games, I was researching!”

“Yeah, right. Go to sleep, Dean.”

John shuts the door behind him but not five seconds go by before he comes right back in to find Dean just where he’d left him, still startled with his heart raising in his throat. John exhales, eyes practically totally shut with fatigue and says, more softly this time, “good night, son.”

“Night, dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gifs: Dean's were made by me, the other one was obtained from a website that has gif stock video footage.


	7. Chapter 7

Bones, decaying flesh and more bones. Corpses tormented and forced to keep on suffering past their death, hanging from crosses they’ll never come down of. It’s a land painted black and white with ashes and death. Under Castiel’s feet, their bones break like twigs. Some tortured souls watch him walk by but don’t turn to him for help. They’re broken, stripped of their belongings, their pride and their lives. They don’t see an ally in him and he doesn’t stop to offer any assistance, any mercy, even though he could easily help them. No, they deserve to be where they are so Castiel continues in his path, almost admiring the silence and the destruction, a boy made a monster made a king, a cold, unforgiving one, a worthy ruler of Hell.

“Help them!” Cas finds himself screaming at his other self. “Help them, you have to help them!” he implores but the other just walks away, on with his journey.

“Cas! Cas, wake up!”

Gabriel’s voice is loud in his ears. The young witch wakes up to his brother shaking him by the shoulders. Cas is covered in sweat, panting hard as he looks around in bewilderment, still expecting to see bones all around him. His eyes focus on his brother’s and Cas reaches out to fist the front of Gabe’s shirt as if grabbing hold of his brother will confirm that this is reality instead of what he’d just seen.

“It’s okay, it was just a dream, Cas,” Gabe reassures him, patting his back a few times. His grandmother watches over his shoulder, brow furrowed with worry as she covers her mouth with one hand.

“It wasn’t just a dream,” he argues in a hoarse, rather hysterical voice. “They’re not just dreams, stop telling me they’re just dreams!”

“Cas, you need to calm down,” Gabe says, eyes quickly darting towards the window. Only then Cas notices it’s pouring, the rain coming in through his opened window, making all the floor wet. Thunders nearby rumble so loud the windows rattle and he actually jumps.

“Seir!” he cries, concerned about his familiar being out in that storm, but a short caw drives his attention to the dark bird perched atop the wardrobe. Castiel sighs, relieved, and lays against the headboard.

Gabriel squeezes his shoulder to catch his attention again. “Cas, you need to stop the storm or you’ll flood the town at this rate.”

Castiel nods, closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing. Breathe in, breathe out, slowly, methodically, leaving everything else in his mind compartmentalized to deal with later. He has to take control of his emotions and thus his powers, he has to tame them, put a leash on them. It’s hard, the images of Hell are fresh in his brain, but after a few minutes the storm relents. It continues to rain, but now it’s more of a drizzle rather than a weather hazard. 

“Well done, Cas,” Gabe smiles at him in that big brother, reassuring sort of way, but it doesn’t comfort him this time. 

In a small voice, he insists, “they’re not just dreams, Gabe.”

Gabriel sighs and looks out the window. A bright line of lightning flashes across the sky just in time, but the thunder seems more distant this time. The storm is moving on already.

“You take your time making your choice, Cas,” Gabe responds, and this time he’s not angry or condescending, he just sounds a little defeated. “I didn’t tell dad the Winchesters are back… I will back you up, whatever you decide but you know what my opinion is.”

Castiel shakes his head and mutters, not without sarcasm, “that we can take on anything, even Hell.”

“Yeah, that’s about right.”

“It’s _Hell_ , Gabriel.”

“It’s our _home_ , Cas,” his brother corrects him. “And it’s not—it’s not what humans make it out to be. It’s complex. There are Kingdoms and different lands and different rulers, and it's not all crazy demons or witches or monsters looking to bring on the Apocalypse. It’s not that simple, it’s not what Satan wishes for us. He gives us a choice and many choose to keep Hell and Earth separate. Even if something threatened the balance, we would have allies that would fight to keep it in place. Other doors are still open, why can’t ours?”

“Because—” Cas starts only to stop abruptly. How can he begin to explain to Gabriel that for a while now he’s seen himself as one of the horsemen of the Apocalypse, the fifth? He’s so ashamed of his visions, of the role he’d play, he can’t bring himself to tell his brother the truth. “Because… there’s just something about _this one_ , Gabe, I know it…”

With a heavy sigh, Gabriel runs a hand through his dirty blond hair and stands up, giving up on the subject for now. It’s too early, for either of them, the sun’s not even up yet.

“It’s too early to have this conversation,” he concludes. “Come on, lay down.”

Cas slides down the headboard and lets his head drop on the pillow again. Gabriel lays a hand on his forehead and starts muttering words, a spell, to help him sleep, just like he did when Cas was just a small boy and had nightmares. The young witch closes his eyes and welcomes the peaceful, dreamless sleep his brother gifts with him.

The young half-witch is not the only one feeling heavy with fatigue that Monday morning. Dean’s struggling to keep his eyes open at school like never before. The lack of a good night's sleep is driving him close to madness, a part of him feels like a toddler who might burst out crying any moment now just out of sheer exhaustion. At least things seem to go smoothly for him that morning; Dick Roman fails to throw a single paper ball his way (actually, Cas is making him fail just to have something to entertain himself with to avoid falling asleep in the middle of the class, but Dean has no way of knowing that) and at lunch Bela finds him and asks him to join her which is a fucking relief because it’s impossible for him to have lunch outside today due to last night’s storm and he really doesn’t want to be that kid who eats all by himself.

Bela loves the attention that comes from hanging out with Dean, which doesn’t surprise him at all. She walks into the cafeteria like she owns it, walking past her own friends and leading Dean to a free spot right in the middle of the room, which he thinks she chooses on purpose so everyone can see them. He feels exposed but he doesn’t say anything. There’s no real reason for wanting to be seen with him, not that he can figure out at least, but the British girl doesn’t seem to mind his bad reputation. Maybe this will help him clear his name; Bela’s no doubt a popular girl, she could put in a good word for him with some of her friends. He thinks _some_ and not all because he’s sure some of them are also Dick’s friends and, yeah, no, Dean’s not mixing with that crowd.

Bela tells him her life story, how she lived in England most of her life and that her father dragged them all the way here (she doesn’t sound too happy about that) because he has some business to do with a big old oil company. Dean doesn’t know the company at all, so name-dropping doesn’t really work to impress him. She’s obviously eager to get back to her country, goes on and on about how much it sucks to live in this boring little town where the most exciting thing that can possibly happen is the screening of a new movie at the theatre—singular, there’s just one— and the arrival of a weird family back in town.

“That’s you, in case you didn’t get that,” she tells him with a wink.

“No, yeah, I got that. I’m glad I’m here to amuse you.”

She laughs, once again disregarding what Dean's situation must feel like for him and instead seeing it all as entertainment. “I mean it, though, you’re about the only interesting thing that has happened here in months. Anything that gets people’s panties in a twist is my sort of thing. This town is tragically uneventful.”

He laughs but has nothing to reply about that; to say he doesn’t agree it’s an overstatement. He’d do anything to have an ordinary, uninteresting life, sitting with his friends to have lunch in peace day after day and go catch a movie with them once in a while to the one cinema in town. Dean’s short life has had _too many_ significant events, thank you very much, he wants a routine for once in his life.

“So that’s why you punish your parents by dating bad boys? Cause they brought you here?”

She smirks and shrugs, playing with her hair while she bats her eyelashes. “ _Someone’s_ got to keep it interesting, don’t you think? So, what do you say you and I have a little study session tomorrow after school? I’m sure my dad will love to hear I’m hanging out with you.”

“Well, what do I get in return?” Dean asks her, flirting right back because fuck it, why the hell _not_?

“An awesome study partner,” she answers, then leans in to whisper low enough that only he can hear, “and, if you play your cards right, maybe a date this weekend. You’ve got to earn it, Winchester. Entertain me.”

Bela’s not kidding apparently when she says she wants to piss her dad off because instead of letting him drive her to his place the next day, she insists on having her dad drive her. She arrives at his place around an hour after school wearing a short skirt that Mr Talbot must surely disagree with, a glorious smug expression adorning her perfectly geometric face as she strolls through his front yard towards his door. Dean sees the look of disapproval in the guy’s face all the way from the front door and actually feels kind of awkward as he lifts a hand to politely greet him. Bela’s dad just glares back at him looking like he’s going to combust soon. It’s a pretty childish behaviour in Dean’s humble opinion, but what the hell does he know? He doesn’t have a daughter and if he did, he’s sure he could sympathize, he wouldn’t want his daughter hanging out with a guy like himself. Although, he kindly reminds himself, he’s improved and he’s trying to be a decent guy.

“Don’t you just love the look on his face?” Bela beams as she waves her dad goodbye.

“He really hates my guts, huh?”

“Oh, you’ve no idea, I’ve fed him all kinds of crazy stories.”

Dean frowns to himself as she comes in, not sure he loves what he’s hearing. He’d actually preferred it if people _stopped_ saying crap about him, the one time the rumours are unfounded. 

As Bela looks around their living-room, she’s not quick enough to hide the slight expression of disdain on her face before he sees it. A pang of embarrassment stirs his stomach and his eyes skim around the room as well to study it as if he’s also seeing it for the first time. It looks fine… _ish_. It’s the best they’ve managed considering their finances and utter lack of interior design skills they have. Dean thinks it’s pretty homey, by far the nicest place he’s ever lived in (anything beats a motel or the car), but apparently it doesn’t live up to the expectations of this pompous girl. If Dean’s learned anything about Bela is that she’s rich and spoiled and she’s not the tiniest bit embarrassed about either of those things.

“So, hmm, shall we get started?”

“My room’s the first door to the right. Would you like something from the kitchen?”

“Have you got any tea?”

Dean pulls his mouth into a thin line and shakes his head. She sighs almost as if she had expected it—obviously the American brutes don’t have _tea_ —and reluctantly asks for water.

John is a little nervous as he watches Dean pour water into two glasses and grabs the most best cookies he finds in the cupboard.

“So, hmm, who’s the girl?” John tries to ask casually but fails miserably.

“Bela. Study partner,” Dean replies, holding the cookies between his side and his arm while he grabs the glasses of water with his hands. “Why?”

His dad crosses his arms over his chest and mutters, “nothing, nothing…” 

“Oookay, dad…”

An awkward silence prolongs between them so Dean sees it as his cue to leave, but the moment he takes a step forward, John mimics his movement abruptly and gets on his way.

“Just— just keep your bedroom door open.”

Even though his cheeks are burning with embarrassment, Dean can’t help but find that a little endearing. It’s the first time John’s showed any kind of concern like that. Dean’s pretty sure John’s not naive enough to think his son is a virgin so he’s not sure what’s up with the request, but it’s kind of adorable that he cares about that sort of thing so Dean doesn’t really mind it.

“Dad, she’s just here to study.”

“I’m just saying.”

“... Sure.”

He can’t help but smile to himself, finding the situation weird but also funny. As promised, he keeps the door of his room open and sits on his bed while Bela takes the chair at his desk. She seems so out of place there, with her fancy clothes and her nice perfume and her polished nails in contrast with his rock bands posters, second-hand furniture and stained walls they still need to paint.

“Want some cookies?” he offers, trying to make her feel as comfortable and welcomed as possible, but she shakes her head right away.

“I don’t eat cookies.”

“You don’t eat cookies.”

“No.”

“Why not? Who doesn’t eat cookies?”

“Do you have any idea the amount of carbs they have?”

Dean lifts an eyebrow and holds her stare for a long moment, both thinking how ridiculous the other is and perfectly aware of it. They’re different, they’re _so_ different, and not in that cute way that sometimes brings people together, like yin and yang. No, they’re different in the _we don’t get each other at all_ sort of awkward way.

 _She’s_ that _kind of girl,_ Dean can’t help but think in a not so friendly manner, but instantly tells himself not to be a dick; she’s nice to him and she’s right about the only one so he should be grateful and overlook the things about her that don’t sit well with him. Like her superiority complex and the obvious way she looks down on him, no biggie. People can change.

“Well, more for me,” Dean smiles and starts eating those chocolate cookies like they’re an outlet for his anxiety.

They actually study and keep it civil which is kind of a first for Dean; studying with girls usually led to makeout sessions in the past in his experience, if not more. There’s some sort of tension between them, Dean’s not sure if it’s sexual or simply the fact that they’re both aware of it, but they make it past it anyway without bringing it up. Dean’s worried he’s ruined it somehow, that she made her uncomfortable, because Bela doesn’t talk to him at all the next day. Maybe it’s just him though, what with the unwelcoming, hard expression in his face caused by his utter lack of peaceful sleep he’s been enduring ever since he set foot in this goddamn town. He can almost feel the last shreds of his patience melting away in his brain, he’s going nuts, so he also stays away from people, for the sake of avoiding accidentally snapping at someone.

Dick Roman doesn’t make it easy though. He insists on bumping Dean’s shoulder as they walk past each other in the hallway and this time Dean’s had it, he can’t keep his mouth shut another day. He’s got to teach this guy a lesson, that Dean Winchester is not someone you should fuck with because he is going to fight back.

“Hey, watch where you’re going,” he barks at him.

Roman and his two friends turn around slowly, eyes open in surprise. They hadn’t been expecting it but they also seem to welcome Dean’s reaction, taking it as an open invitation for more. And Dean wants it, he really does, he wants Roman to throw a punch and give him an excuse to do the same. Fuck his reputation, nobody likes him anyway and the one chick that talks to him _wants_ him to be some kind of bad boy, so why not just give in and be what people want him to be?

“Why don’t you say that to my face?”

“I think I just did.”

They both take a step towards each other and Dean knows it’s just a matter of seconds before shit goes down. They both want it badly but just as Dick starts to smile and curl his hand into a first, someone else steps in, someone Dean knows to be called Benny.

“Okay, alright, keep walking, Roman, the principal’s just around the corner,” he interjects just in time to stop them from fighting, putting a hand in Dick’s chest without any trepidation at all and urging him away. “You don’t want to get suspended and miss your next match, do ya?”

Dick narrows his eyes at Benny and bites his lower lip, itching with the need to continue what he started, but just as Benny said the principal walks by the corner of the hallway and eyes the boys with curiosity, sensing something’s off. Roman just turns away before she can even walk their way. Benny, apparently pleased with himself, gives Dean a complicit smile.

“He’s an ass,” he states, “don’t let him get to ya. It’s not worth your time or getting suspended.”

“Thanks, you’re right, man,” Dean sincerely tells him. Benny has a nice vibe and Dean wishes they could talk more, but they both need to go to different classes and before Dean can think of anything to say to get a rain-check on their conversation, Benny pats him in the arm and starts heading the other way.

Watching the principal walk by is like a wake-up call, he got so close to screwing things up, even if he had a right to stand up to that dick, Dick. He’s just so fucking tired, emotionally _and_ physically, it’s messing with his head. If at least he could have a full night sleep, his brain would toughen up for sure. 

When Dean goes home and realizes he’s alone (his dad is still at work and Sammy is hanging out with Berry), he goes straight to the computer and googles the black seal of Sabnack again. He is fully aware he’s being stupid, superstitious, desperate and irrational, but damn it, if he can do _anything_ , no matter how dumb, to try and keep the nightmares away, he might as well try it. Sammy’s been plagued with nightmares too, John’s have stopped, so it’s not just him, it’s something happening to _them_ , in their new house. Dean’s not saying there’s something haunting their dreams, he does not believe they’re cursed, but he’s home alone and he’s borderline insane from the need to sleep well, so he figures what the hell, might as well channel the powers of a demon for a good cause, right? What’s the worst that can happen? If it doesn’t work, he’ll just blow his brains out soon or something. He’s working on the _something_ part.

The actual ritual is so simple he doesn’t trust it at all. Not that he ever had any actual faith in it but still. The thing basically requires Dean to draw the seal on a stiff white paper measuring approximately six inches square with an ordinary black pen and think positive thoughts. 

_Whatever method is chosen, it is important that you use time and patience in creating the Seal. Even in the field of Black Magick, patience is a virtue,_ he reads and so he takes it slow, putting all his heart and soul into it, copying the symbol methodically and slowly. Maybe this is just some sort of yoga/meditation crap, the power of your mind and positive thinking or something turned spooky by sprinkling some occultism over it. That’s never really been his thing but desperate times call for desperate measures so he follows the instructions to the letter, carefully drawing the seal just as it is in the book.

Then, the instructions read: _having chosen and created your own personal Black Seal, you must then have it charged with the vast storehouse of supernatural power surrounding us with invisible dimension of unlimited power._

He rereads the sentence, frowning down at it.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean…” he mutters to himself, scratching the back of his head absentmindedly. His eyes burn with exhaustion. 

He grabs the paper and just stands there as if it would get charged wirelessly with the energies of the house, feeling stupid as fuck but what the hell, he’s already started this, might as well finish it. Dean then reads the rest of the instructions and follows them all at once. First he takes the phone off the hook and dims the lights a little by throwing a towel over the lamp, the only light he leaves on. He brings a chair from the kitchen and sits with his back leaning against the backrest, then he takes a few deep breaths, inhaling through his nose and out through his mouth to, as the book puts it, ‘ _be as relaxed and free from all physical tension as possible_ ’ considering he hasn’t slept well in two weeks.

 _Make your mind passive and receptive to the occult forces you are evoking._ That’s a hard one as he doesn’t believe in it but he continues with the breathing exercise, letting his mind relax but not wander. 

Maybe his mom believed in this. He’s not an atheist per se, but he’s not spiritual either. He wonders if he would have been should she have lived and taught him. Who is he to mock her beliefs? Maybe she tried the spell herself in her home, to keep them safe. Dean would do anything to keep them safe, even if it’s asking a higher power for help.

With an open mind, he jumps to the next stage of the ritual. He closes his eyes and frees his mind of thoughts to then visualise an intense beam of bright red light flowing from above down into the Black Seal held in his hands. He doesn’t think about how stupid it all is, he’ll do that later, for now he just puts all his efforts into making this experience as real as possible for him. He’s required to keep the supernatural power clear and firm in his mind for at least fifteen minutes; all the while believing that the seal will cause his inner desires to be released into the outer objective world of tangible reality. Dean’s got no idea how long he sits there but he does as the book says, a desperate young man putting all his efforts into his last hope because nothing else seems to be helping him sleep better. This has to work, this _will_ work, not just for him, but for Sammy too. This is their home, dammit, and it will not backfire on them. It’s going to stop doing weird shit, the electricity will stop failing even though John can find nothing wrong with it, the temperature will stop fluctuating like they have their own microclimate, the nightmares will stop haunting them, the insects will finally die out, everything will be normal for once in his fucking life.

At some point, even though he’s not sure whether fifteen whole minutes have passed or not (he should have really used a timer), he opens his eyes and imagines in his mind that his desire has been fulfilled. He visualizes the power of the seal, believing as hard as he can in the realness of what he’s done, for a full five minutes, or what he estimates are five minutes. Finally he images a beam of bright red light flowing into the paper and becoming part of the seal. As he does that, a thrilling shiver runs down his spine as he observes the paper in his hands with more respect than when he last saw it. What if it works? What if he now has a most potent occult tool in his possession? That’d be crazy and super cool. What if his mom was this badass chick who knew about occultism, not just for kicks but to actually use it for good, help people and protect his family? Dean smiles to himself while he becomes weirdly proud of this fictional scenario in which his mom is some kind of hero.

His spiritual moment gone, Dean decides to save the piece of paper in his room, under his mattress, right next to his mom’s diary. Who knows? Maybe a little weird is just all he needs.

There’s no way to measure his astonishment and, oh, his fucking _delight!_ , the next morning when he wakes up from sleeping eight full hours without a fucking demon, ghost or bully chasing him around in his dreams all night. He cannot fucking believe it when the alarm wakes him up instead of the chilling ending to a crude nightmare. The change in his mood is almost instantaneous, even though he still has a long way to go to feel fully rested, but at least now he feels enough like himself to smile and joke around with his family and go back to avoiding Dick instead of hoping they’ll butt heads soon.

It’s not the seal that helped, it cannot be, that’s just ridiculous. It _has_ to be that he had just finally hit rock bottom and his brain was too tired to conjure up new nasty dreams. Or maybe the power of positive thinking really is a thing and he should try yoga next (doubtful). Either way, he cannot help taking the seal of Sabnack from under his mattress and studying it with a newfound respect, wondering what if… what if he _actually_ has an occult artefact in his hands that he made with magic? He laughs at himself for even thinking about it but, truth be told, he puts it back under the mattress carefully, making sure he doesn’t damage it, just in case the thing will really protect his home.

With a clearer head, Dean heads to school with a new point of view. Okay, so maybe he’s not out for a great start but things can still turn around, all he needs to do is adjust his expectations and give people time to get to know him, realize he’s not here to break into people’s houses and girls’ hearts. He’s probably not going to get to that point where everyone knows him as that charming, handsome kid that came back to town to win everyone over but perhaps he can aim to be the misunderstood kid who is okay knowing himself even if nobody else does, who’s just there to do his thing and take care of his family. That’s not a half bad role to play, at this point he just wants some peace in his life.

Dean’s not the only one using Solomon’ seals that week. Castiel, who is still struggling to make what is unquestionably the toughest decision in his life, decides to contact Purson, one of the great Kings of Hell who knows of hidden things, can find treasures and conveniently has close ties with his father. Also known to bring good familiars, it was him who gifted Seir to Castiel when he was born. Charles had been so pleased and honoured by the gesture while Clarice was slightly upset that a demon was sending presents to his child (and that present being a spirit), but Seir proved to be a fantastic and most loyal companion.

While Gabriel is out on Thursday night with Kali, Cas gets witchy. He lights some candles, gets a goblet with human blood as an offer to the King—Gabe keeps an (almost always) ethically stocked pantry of ingredients, no humans were harmed on the making of this ritual—and draws Purson’s seal in the magic mirror of his room. With Seir perched on his shoulder, Castiel begins the calling.

“I summon thee, Purson, Great King of Hell, to ask for your aid. I bind you not for I am not your master, I am your friend. Accept my humble offering and show yourself to me. Help me find a treasure that was stolen from my family.”

The blood in the goblet disappears, the candles blow out and suddenly his reflection in the mirror is gone. Instead, the demon with the human body and lion’s face appears in front of him, sitting in his throne calmly, studying Castiel with curiosity. He has a goblet of his own in his hand and traces of blood around his mouth. The offering seems to please him.

“B+, my favourite, and young too,” the king starts, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. “Your offering is most welcome but I must warn you I speak the truth and _only_ the truth. You shall show me the same courtesy or we won’t speak at all.” The young witch frowns, confused as to what the king means, so he explains, “the key to Hell wasn’t stolen from your family, it was given away by one of you.”

“Why?” Cas asks out of impulse, because he knows that Purson knows all things, past, present and future, so he has to know why Clarice did what she did. “Why did she give it away? Do you know?”

“Yes, I do,” he nods his head but gives no sign that he’ll provide an answer.

After a moment of silence, Cas awkwardly inclines his head, waiting for an explanation. “Well…?”

The King lifts an eyebrow, apparently not all impressed with the young witch, and lets out a breath of contained annoyance. “I see your teachings of Hell have not been as extensive as they should be, Castiel. Gabriel was never an academic, so I will fill in for him.” The King leans forward with his arms on his knees and, looking at Cas like he’s a little stupid, he explains, “my child, you do not simply ask a King of Hell all that you desire to know. Can you imagine what would happen if we were to just blurt out all that every demon, every witch, every creature from Hell desires to know? It would be mayhem! With great knowledge comes great responsibility.”

He has a good point Castiel thinks and it’s only now that he realizes how reckless it was to summon a King without conducting a proper and thorough research beforehand. Magic born out of impulse is always dangerous, Gabe taught him when he was a kid. Planning and research were key points of safely performed magic. Purson could be angry by his insolent request; who was he to just disturb a demon _king_ from Hell and demand to have his every question answered?

Castiel shifts from one foot to the other nervously, hoping he hasn’t offended the King. Purson, whose powers are so strong he can read minds even through the mirror, sits back on his throne and smiles at him, pleased with the witch’s newfound humbleness.

“There are rules, Castiel, that apply to everyone, even my good friend’s son. Do not worry, I am not angry with you. You have a poor teacher and no experience in Hell, so I will overlook your ignorant breaking of the rules. Just _this once_ though.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” Cas sighs relieved, bowing his head ever so slightly to show gratitude and humility.

“The rules are as follows; you can only make three questions and the answer to your questions can only be yes or no. You may ask anything you want, pertaining to the past, present or future. You have already asked me one question, if I know the reason why your mother gave the key away and the answer is yes. I won’t overlook this, you only have two questions left.”

Castiel nods and opens his mouth to speak, but the demon interrupts him by lifting a hand.

“Bare in mind that secrets and hidden things are my specialty, you may _only_ ask questions related to these topics.”

This is the most stressful think-on-your-feet situation he’s ever experienced, nevermind finals at school. He anxiously chews the inside of his cheeks, thinking over and over again how to express his next question in a way that Purson will accept it but it will also work to get the most useful information for Castiel.

 _Fuck, I should have_ really _prepared for this,_ Cas thinks with an edge of panic growing in his chest. What if his family has already made the questions he’s about to make? He doesn’t know what they asked Purson or _if_ they’ve ever even asked him something. They should have, right? Why wouldn’t they? They’ve spent so long looking for the key, it would have been useful to have three clues from Purson. Six if at least Gabriel and his father asked and even more if the rest of his brothers did too. But he doesn’t know what they know or don’t know, all he knows is Gabriel and his father _assume_ the key is in the bunker but they don’t know for sure.

His heart beats rapidly, he hides away his hands in his pockets so that the demon doesn’t see them shaking. He feels like a fucking idiot, a reckless, impulsive child, but he has no time to punish himself now and he cannot assume his family has or hasn’t asked Purson this or that. With only two questions left, he can’t even afford to ask the King if he has already been asked about the matter by other family members.

“There’s no time limit but I don’t have all night,” the demon teases him.

 _Focus_ , Castiel tells himself. He summoned Purson for a reason, to gather information that will help him make a decision about what his next move is going to be. He wants to know if it’s even worth it to steal Dean’s blood as Gabriel’s trying to pressure him into; they want the blood to get into the bunker because they _assume_ the key is in the bunker. What if it’s not? Cas could ask Purson if the key is there but if he says no, they’re just fucked, the key could be right about anywhere, right there in town or in Jupiter for all they know. He needs to narrow down the search enough so that it’s within a reasonable scope but not make it so small that it’ll render the answer useless if the answer is no.

Taking a deep breath for courage, praying to Satan that he’s making the right question, Cas asks, “is the key to Hell still in town?”

Purson, pleased with the boy’s cleverness, grins and nods. “Yes, yes it is.”

The wave of relief that washes over Castiel surprises himself. The news excite him when he thought it would have frightened him. Even with the warning signs that tell him not to open the door, there’s no question that he’s extremely tempted—eager, even—to do it, to see his family, to help bring his mother back. 

But the moment she crosses his mind, he’s back to being a nervous, prudent boy. His mom closed the door for a reason, a very good reason that has always been a mystery to him. A _secret_ that only she knows. 

With a jolt of excitement he realizes that _technically_ , the matter falls into the category of things Purson could talk to him about but he has to be very clever about what he’s going to ask. Yes or no, that’s all the demon will respond.

Castiel studies the lion’s eyes, measuring his response to the witch’s own train of thoughts, trying to fish for the right question reflected in Purson’s piercing eyes. 

Something bad was going to happen, someone was coming through that gate and soon, that’s the only rational reason Castiel can come up with to explain why his mother would have been in such a hurry to close the gate, the only thing that explains why she couldn’t even wait for her husband to come back and help her. He was travelling through Hell at the time, more than a day’s journey from the gate. She made a hasty and costly decision. But what was it that was coming? Could she too have seen warnings of the apocalypse somehow?

A glimmer in the lion’s eyes accompanied by an impatient change in his position gives Cas hope that he’s heading in the right direction. He’s getting closer to the truth. His mother didn’t just outright betray them, something forced her hand. What did she learn and _how_ ? How did she find out something that her husband or Gabriel did not? They had magic, they had better means to find out, not me mention over hundreds of years of combined knowledge. Hell, they could have asked _Purson_ if someone (or something) was secretly plotting against them. If Cas had _asked_ his family before going on this wild goose chase, he could be better prepared to ask his next question.

No time for distractions though, he’ll beat himself up over it _later._

“It makes no sense though,” Cas mutters to himself as he racks himself for the answers that have haunted him for years. “My family protects the gate, the defensive magic around it is so strong it would take a legion of creatures to break through it. There’s no organized army in Hell of that size, the Kingdoms are too divided.”

“True,” Purson agrees, apparently finding the whole situation very entertaining. 

Castiel panics when he gets a response from the King. “That wasn’t a question!”

Purson barks a laugh. The inhuman sound echoes in his throne room, making the hairs on the back of Castiel’s neck stand. “Relax, I know. I’m not going to con you, Castiel. I will know when you make your question.”

So why was his mother worried? There was no way anything could get through that door ever again. Castiel wouldn’t be too worried about it either except the nightmares have been so overwhelmingly real and insistent he can’t help but think they’re a warning.

“ _That_ is not entirely true.”

The young witch lifts his head, eyebrows meeting together in the middle as he frowns up to the demon. “What do you mean?”

“Again, Gabriel’s teachings fall short,” the lion sighs, shaking his head from side to side. “I shall bring it up to your father’s attention. Your logic is that nothing can get through the door _ever again_ , I believe is what you thought. You’re wrong. The peace treaty protects the gate but it can be broken.”

“ _What?_ ”

A sly smile spreads across Purson’s face. “Every creature from Hell knows, or _should_ know,” Purson starts, again scolding Cas for his ignorance, “that all deals can be broken with the right sacrifice to Satan.”

That new piece of information leaves Castiel feeling cold and confused. Gabriel’s never mentioned that and his younger brother can’t help but feel somehow suspicious of that and almost betrayed. Gabriel, who always says there’s nothing to fear, that there’s no way anything can get through the door his family protects, has fallen short with his honesty.

“Don’t be so harsh on your brother, Castiel. While I agree this is basic knowledge you should be taught, it’s not like Satan breaks deals every day. It’s only happened twice in… I don’t even remember how long anymore. The spell is complicated. It can only be done by those who made the deal and it requires a lot of power, which not every creature has, _and_ the sacrifice of their most beloved. Even then, Satan may choose not to break the deal.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” the young witch asks, now suspicious of the overly gracious King. He’s throwing Cas a bone, no doubt, leading him into making the right final question. Even though Castiel knows better than to think that all demons are these vicious and cunning killing machines and agents of chaos humans paint them out to be, Purson owes him nothing at all and it’s unlike a powerful King to be so generous with someone so far down the ladder as Cas is. “Why are you helping me?”

“I’m helping _myself_. I like the natural order of things and I don’t want to see it disturbed. I like my Kingdom, I’ve worked hard for it and I don’t want no silly apocalypse on Earth to threaten my status. I believe we want the same and despite your remarkable ignorance your half-human, half-infernal soul makes you very powerful and a strategic ally for me. So think carefully about your last question. This is all the help I can give you without cheating my own rules.”

The pressure is back on but Cas tries not to spiral into a tornado of panic. Stay focused, he needs to stay focused to squeeze all the juice out of this lemon. There’s so much he wants to know but he can only ask one more thing, in a yes-or-no-answer kind of question.

He wants to know why his mother closed the gate, if she somehow knew or feared the apocalypse was at their doorstep, just like her son does now. There’s no danger as long as the door is closed and the peace treaty is respected. But with the Winchesters back there’s a real possibility to open the gate and now Purson says the agreement can be broken by those who made it. The spell was originally made by Castiel’s grandfather, who is now dead, but the responsibility to honour the pact continues to this day with his descendants, those carrying Novak blood. Any one of them could ask Satan to break it, Charles or any of Castiel’s brothers, after offering the proper sacrifice. Just thinking about it makes him sick but the poisonous seed of doubt grows wild in his heart and suddenly all of them are suspects in his eyes.

 _It cannot be Gabe,_ Cas argues with himself, his heart aching at the thought of his most beloved brother being evil enough to bring the apocalypse into the world. Gabe, who raised him, who kissed his scraped knees when he was a boy, who taught him to tie his shoelaces… Gabe, who also conveniently _forgot_ to mention that there actually is a way Castiel’s nightmares can come true, who was on Earth at the time of the strange murders, who Cas knows to be mischievous and more than a little condescending towards mortals at times.

Castiel is tempted to ask Purson about his brother but bites his lower lip before the question rolls off his tongue impulsively. There’s no way to exonerate any particular family member, there are simply too many of them and only one question left. What he can do instead is at least solve the mystery of his mother and give himself the certainty that he’s got a real reason to suspect his own family beyond speculation so he won’t go crazy with conspiracy theories he can’t prove. Maybe that’s why Gabriel and his father never found the culprit, because they never wanted to believe, just as Cas doesn’t right now as well, that it could be one of their own so they never bothered to check.

“Did…” He takes a deep breath, balling his hands into fists. He prays to Satan this is the right question. “Did my mom give Mary Winchester the key to Hell because she knew someone in my family was trying to break the treaty?”

 _No_ , he wants Purson to say _no_ because even the idea of him saying yes is almost unbearable. It means he will have spared his mother’s reputation only to ruin someone else’s. It means there actually is a traitor in their family but it was never her. It means Cas is right and the door should remain closed and he can never see his family again.

But Castiel will never be ready for the answer, whatever it actually is, so when Purson finally says, “yes”, he has no idea how to react. His reckless summoning feels much dangerous now, the weight of his actions pulling at his guts towards the floor like heavy rocks. He feels sick, cold. He feels isolated, completely alone and betrayed in that big old house with its big old secrets that belong to a family he’s never really known.

Swallowing hard through the lump on his throat, all he can do is nod to give the demon some kind of sign that he actually heard the answer.

“Ignorance is bliss, isn’t it?” Purson chuckles as he watches the young witch’s paled face. “I’d love to stay and chat with you but I have matters to attend to so this is goodbye for now, child.”

Cas tries to force himself to say something, to be polite with the King, but he cannot bring himself to care about it. He’s too busy worrying about other things.

Before breaking their communication, however, Purson turns a little sideways on his seat, an alarmingly pleased look on his face, and he points a finger towards the witch before saying in what he pretends is an afterthought, “oh, and Castiel… There is _one_ more rule. You owe loyalty to the King that gives you answers. For all of eternity. You may never rise against me or you shall pay with your life.”

If Castiel wasn’t about to faint before, he surely is now. He’s just unknowingly sworn loyalty to a demon he doesn’t even know. Sure, his father’s a good friend of his and Cas wasn’t even thinking about ever revolting against Purson or anything, but it’s nonetheless terrifying to know he owes allegiance to him.

The worst part is, he can’t even really get angry at the demon and accuse him of deception. Castiel called him without properly doing his research first, without knowing the rules, and he made his first question before the demon got a chance to explain how things worked, which he should have _already_ known. It’s his fault, it’s entirely his fault.

Purson makes a small vow with his head and his image in the mirror disappears. Now Cas sees his own face instead , white as a ghost, and the sheer terror in his eyes. He stumbles towards the bed, shaking nervously, Seir still perched on his shoulder leaning against his side in a way that tries to be comforting. Cas drags himself up the bed, kicks his shoes off and gets under the blankets, fully dressed, like a child running away from the scary monsters lurking down a dark hallway. He never wants to scrawl out of bed again, doesn’t want to face the weight and implications of this newfound information… but, crap, he has school in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gif: second Dean gif is from sensitivehandsomeactionman


	8. Chapter 8

After speaking with Purson he lays in bed for about an hour, a crippling anxiety gluing his head to the pillow but he is nowhere near being relaxed enough to fall asleep. At some point after midnight, when it becomes obvious that Gabriel is not going to return home that night, he finds himself wandering downstairs into the secret library. His grandmother tries to soothe him and convince him to return to bed, but Cas needs more information to put his thoughts in order.

“I need to figure this out, grandma,” he tells her and then realizes he never bothered to ask _her_ if she knew something. In her human life she knew nothing of the supernatural but ever since she returned to live with them as a ghost, she could have picked up something interesting along the way. His head perks up from where he was hiding behind a book and he asks, “do _you_ know something? Have you ever seen Gabriel summoning Purson? Or any other demon?”

But she just shakes her head and disappears back the way she came from in defeat, knowing full well how hard it is to change his mind; nothing she says is going to get him back to bed.

Cas goes through the very old books of history that Gabriel mostly never even touches. Since he was a child, most of his education focused on spells and witchcraft—but none of the heavy, really dangerous or dark stuff, Gabriel always kept things very PG—, the occult and the creatures of the night; practical things, one may say. How to do this and that, how to control this creature, how to control his magic, how to pull practical pranks on someone, what sort of monsters he shouldn’t mess with, but his brother never taught him about the culture and history of Hell _._ Now Cas is wondering _why_ he intentionally missed such a core part of his studies; did he have something to hide, is there something he doesn’t want Cas to know, or it simply because he’s not interested in that sort of stuff himself?

His research pays off because the inquisitive young witch finally finds what he wants around 2.30 am. In all honesty it wasn’t really that hard to find, but he was so tired and anxious he kept getting stuck reading the same line over and over again. Maybe if he were well rested, he would have noticed how the corner of the page was turned down from the start or the perfectly normal piece of paper that slips from between the pages and falls to the floor. The book that covers the spell Purson had been talking about even _looks_ mean, made of some weird sort of worn out leather and stiff pages that Castiel is not sure are exactly made of paper, but he really doesn’t want to know what they are. There are stains here and there on the sides that he is pretty sure are blood. It has protective sigils engraved in the cover and a warning in the first page that tells the reader not to speak the few spells inside out loud, even if you’re not really attempting the ritual or if you haven’t gathered the ingredients or requirements. It’s not the type of reading he normally goes for, what with Gabriel and his grandmother raising him to be good and benevolent, he’s not really the sort of young witch itching to learn how to summon Satan or sacrifice animals for more power. He always stayed away from anything that could hurt people and this spell is _all_ about hurting people, it's the darkest of dark magic and to be honest he's even surprised to find such a vile book under his roof.

To ask Satan to break a deal, one must offer 8 sacrifices to the devil, all of which must be carried out with violence, no willing sacrifices are acceptable. It makes sense that it takes 8 of them, Cas figures, since that number in the Bible is a symbol for new beginnings, new orders. After each sacrifice, which can only be done one murder at the time with at least a week between each killing (almost as if to give you time to change your mind and stop), there’s a complex ritual that requires a lot of powerful magic to build up on the request that’s being made to Satan and almost ridiculously rare ingredients. It’s a difficult and tricky business made this way on purpose so that if you mess up at any given moment, you have to start the entire spell and murders all over again. The eighth and final sacrifice is different in that it can be done at any moment after the last one and it is also the most powerful one; it calls for one to kill their most beloved, just like Purson told him, no matter if they would normally be great sacrifice material or not. The bond that person shares with the killer must be profound, meaningful and sincere. The pain caused by its loss must harm the wrongdoer as much as the breaking of the deal will harm the party that’s being betrayed. And even then, even after all of this, Satan could still consider your request unworthy and reject it, maybe even punish you for summoning him. Bottom line is, one must _really_ want to break the deal to attempt this because the stakes are so high and one has so much to lose whether they’re successful or not.

When he finishes reading the spell’s instructions, Cas decides he’s had enough. There’s more about the spell, it tells the tale of the two occasions in which Satan agreed to break a deal, but for now he doesn’t think he has the stomach to digest new information about more murders and treasons. Castiel closes the book and slowly sets it on the table, almost wary of the book, as if he didn’t want to startle and awaken it by mistake.

As he stands up, he finally notices the piece of paper that had fallen from the book onto his lap, which now lays on the floor in front of him. He picks it up, eyebrows shooting up in surprise when he recognises the handwriting; his mother’s. 

  1. _Cara_
  2. _Teddy_



~~_Richie_~~ _\---- survived_

  1. _Marina_
  2. _Samuel_



_~~Deanna~~_ _\---- same night_

  1. _Shelby_
  2. _Aurora_
  3. _Charles?_



She figured it out. She figured it out before any of them _wise witches_ could. Cas spent years under that roof with that book, the answer right in front of him only hidden away due to his harmless nature that kept him from touching that awful book. But Gabriel had to know this spell, so did his father, his _entire_ family in fact! How could they have not figured it out? How did they not realize what was happening, that someone was building up to this spell? It’s obvious that’s what was happening, isn’t it? Cas can’t remember the dates of the so called accidental deaths and the murders but he bets there’s at least a week between each of them. Whoever was behind the killing had gotten so awfully close to the end, Castiel now thinks that’s why his mother acted with such urgency. She closed the gate before the spell could be completed, fearing that her husband was the last sacrifice to be made and that Hell was upon them, coming for them all. But if she thought Charles was the last victim, that means she suspected someone close to him, someone who loved him, _if_ she even was right about it being someone else and not her husband who was behind the murders. 

Castiel wants to slap himself just thinking about it. Is he really going to doubt his own father? But then again everyone seems so suspicious to him now, everyone has hidden a little bit of information here and there for the longest time...

 _It couldn’t have been him, things got so much worse when he left,_ Castiel argues with himself. As soon as Charles was out of the picture, the murderer got bold enough to slaughter the Campbells in their beds. That was no coincidence, they were close to the truth too and someone shut them both up the same night, even if they could use only one of them for the ritual. Then two more quick and merciless murders that Gabe couldn’t prevent.

Besides, Clarice was the person Charles loved the most, or so Cas speculates, since he was planning to end his life on Earth alongside her, forsaking his power, his fame, his immortality, to grow old with her. Life wasn’t worth living without her anymore, so he couldn’t have killed her as sacrifice. He had no motive to break the peace treaty, it doesn’t make sense at all to blame him.

_What if Gabe—_

He rejects that thought right off before he even finishes the sentence. He cannot, _will not_ , for better or for worse, even if it’s naive of him, deem his brother a stone cold killer. Gabriel may be many things but there’s kindness in him and no one can convince Castiel otherwise. His brother helped Charlie get better when she was 10 and fell very ill. He helped the crops of his neighbours grow during that one year where the region experienced a really terrible drought. He took care of every potentially dangerous ghost in town even when it wasn’t his responsibility and he politely threatened vampires away when they passed through town with every intention of making a stop to feed.

 _He made me a promise,_ Castiel reminds himself, relief washing over him as he realizes there is hard proof to exonerate his brother. _A blood promise to protect Earth. It cannot be him._

Two suspects down, he still has at least three brothers to be wary of if he's not counting the numerous friends and loyal servants his father has. Castiel doesn’t know the rest of his brothers nearly as well as he does Gabriel, for obvious reasons, but they’re still his brothers. Michael has sent him presents through friends of his that can enter Earth through other doors, Lucifer has taught him magic from a distance and Raphael and Cas share a love for ghost stories that brought them together since he was a kid—even though Gabriel would have to deal with the aftermath, which was a young, scared Castiel who was a bit too rattled to go to bed, especially considering he knew ghosts were real. They’ve all been kind to him and they’ve all always looked up to his father. But one of them is a liar, a fake, a dangerous, sick and twisted soul.

The next day seems surreal. He considers skipping school and trying to sleep in but in the end he would rather go than stay home and face Gabriel. It wouldn’t be hard for him to notice Cas summoned a demon, presences like that leave a trail, and he’ll probably be pissed, so Castiel does what any normal teenager would do; run from any form of paternal figure who is, for sure, going to be mad at him for being stupid, and rightfully so.

So, instead, he faces his friends and their obvious concern. To be fair, they also have a right to be worried about him judging by his weird behaviour lately and now the dark bags under his eyes, not to mention the constant frown in his face and the fact that he hasn’t smiled throughout lunch at all, not once.

“Cas, you don’t look so good. Is everything okay?” Garth asks him.

“Yeah,” he mutters, avoiding meeting his eyes. He feels guilty by association now that he knows it was one of his relatives who killed all those people back in the day and got away with it. The worst part is, even if he knew exactly who it was, he could never tell the police, there would never be justice. After all, how could he even begin to explain how he knew the truth or the fact that he knew for sure his brother was out of reach? “I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

If he slept more than three hours, Castiel would be surprised but still he doesn’t feel nearly as tired as he should, the heavy burden of his family secret and an overload of anxiety keeping him wide awake. 

“Nightmares again?”

“Sort of…”

Charlie narrows her eyes at him in an almost accusatory way as she foresees him bailing out on their after-school plans. “Are we still on for tonight?”

Cas had nearly forgotten about it but truth be told he’s glad to have an excuse to delay going home for a little longer. “Yes. Do you mind if I go home with you straight from school? I know we said 6.30 but—”

“Yeah, sure,” Charlie beams, clearly relieved Cas isn't cancelling. “You guys gotta leave by 9 though or my mom will have my head.”

He attempts to smile but it comes out strained. Leaning forwards with his arms as pillows over the table he rests his head and closes his eyes for a second, letting the loud background chatter around him melt into unintelligible noise. He needs to sleep, he wants it so badly! If only he didn’t have to face Gabe to get to his bed first.

Suddenly Charlie jerks him awake, shaking his shoulder as she grunts in discontent. “Look at her,” she hisses under her breath, “she’s all over him. It’s so gross, she’s _obviously_ using him.”

“Huh?”

Cas opens one eye to look at her. His friend frowns in strong disapproval as she stares off to some other table. Following her line of sight, Castiel lifts his head a little to see Bella sitting way too close to Dean, batting her eyelashes at him and putting into good use all the natural, feminine witchcraft girls possess to make the boys fall for them. It works every fucking time, this apparently not being an exception as Dean doesn’t seem at all bothered by the attention.

“He’s really handsome, she could be into him,” Garth points out.

“Yeah, sure, everyone with two eyes knows he’s handsome,” she agrees, rolling her eyes a little, “but _come on_ . This is an _obvious_ plot to get back at Dick for flirting with Amara over the summer.”

Benny snorts. “How do you even know all of that?”

“The power of the internet,” Charlie simply states and shrugs, like that explains everything. It really doesn’t.

“I never took you for a gossip,” Benny teases her, to which Charlie responds very maturely by sticking her tongue out at him.

“And we’re talking about this why?” Cas grunts as he lays his head on the table again.

“Because he doesn’t know!” Charlie argues quite fervently, banging her delicate fist on the table. “And _everyone_ knows and no one is telling him! It’s like letting a blind person walk straight into the train tracks! Dick is going to kick his ass if they go out.”

“Dean looks like he can handle himself. Besides, what do you suggest we do, Charlie? Tell the new kid the only person who’s talking to him only wants to use him to get back at his ex?” Castiel responds, barely making an effort not to slur his words which are muffled against his arm. “Be my guest.”

Charlie sighs in defeat, pursing her mouth into a thin line. She doesn’t look pleased or ready to give up the subject.

“Why don’t get invite him tonight—”

“No!” Castiel groans and suddenly jolts upright. “No, please— just not tonight.”

“What’s with you and the Winchesters, Cas?” Garth asks curiously and Charlie jumps right into the conversation with that cue.

“Yeah, Cas, what’s the story there?”

Cas swallows hard and all but gives them the saddest puppy face he can possibly muster. “No questions asked, just give me a free pass today, alright? Please? I am almost brain dead.”

Charlie lifts an eyebrow but Benny bumps her elbow with his and gives her this look that keeps her from asking more questions. “Fine!” she reluctantly agrees. “But just this once!”

As soon as Castiel’s head meets the pillow of Charlie’s bed, his brain decides it’s now or never, rest or die, and he all but passes out for two hours straight. She lets him sleep like he owns the bedroom. They’ve been friends for so long, Cas kind of feels at home when he’s at Charlie’s, he’s at that level of comfort where he can open the fridge to see what he wants to take for breakfast when he sleeps over at her place. It's only when Benny and Garth come over that she wakes him up, makes him some coffee and keeps watch to make sure he doesn’t fall asleep again. He tries to focus on the movie but it’s not really catching his attention, his thoughts drifting back to his family, Hell, Satan, and, last but not least, the goddamn apocalypse. 

When Charlie’s telephone rings and she tells him it’s his brother calling to tell Cas to get his ass home he isn’t really surprised.

“For realsies though,” she whispers as she walks him to the door, “is everything alright, Cas?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Stop that,” Charlie says. “If you don’t want to tell us, fine. But stop saying you’re fine. We’re your friends, we can tell you’ve been weird. I just hope you know that whatever it is, you can talk to us.”

He nods and tries to give her a reassuring smile. He wishes he could tell her everything, but she would either be afraid of him or think he’s mad. The secret of his powers has never weighed more heavily on his shoulders than now. It’s better this way though, involving humans in the mysteries of the supernatural always turns up to be dangerous for them. 

Charlie suddenly leaps forwards and pulls him into a tight hug.

“I love you, dumbass.”

He hugs her back, enjoying the brief comfort her friends provide.

“I love you too.”

“You sure you don’t want to wait for my mom to get back?” she offers for the third time as she steps back. “She really doesn’t mind driving you, you know?”

“No, it’s okay, I rather walk anyway.”

“Call me when you get there?”

“Sure. Good night, Charlie.”

“Night, bitch.”

It’s a long walk home from Charlie’s but he really doesn’t mind it, he needs time to put his thoughts in order and figure out what he’s going to tell Gabriel… and what he may leave unsaid. It all depends on the answers he gets from his brother, Cas may feel generous and reciprocate with honesty if he receives just the same. He’s sure Gabe has nothing to do with the murders that happened long ago, but he isn’t so sure that his brother will believe Clarice’s theory as easily as Cas did. Gabriel, who has an obviously stronger bond with their brothers than Cas does, will most likely find it harder to believe they’re capable of those things compared to Castiel who, truth be told, barely knows them. They’re on good terms, sure, they have a friendly and superficially caring relationship, but if he’s being honest with himself Castiel has an unquestionably stronger bond to a friend like Charlie than many of his own blood. They’re just not there for each other, it’s a fact.

The night is dark and chilly. A misty rain, so gentle that it almost seems to be fog, damps the surface of his clothes. Cas wonders if he’s causing this gloomy weather, something he can’t even tell. As he gets closer to the park, Seir finds him and lands on his shoulder. He looks a little anxious to Cas so he lifts a hand to stroke his feathers with the back of his fingers.

“Are you okay?”

Seir caws twice and shuffles closer to Cas, eyes staring around the dark vegetation with caution. Cas stops at the stairs leading up into the park. It’s faster to go through rather than around but as he stops to pay attention to his surroundings, which are absolutely deserted and quiet, the unsettling feeling that he’s not alone starts creeping up his spine. A second later, the light of the street lamp at the foot of the stairs starts flickering. Seir caws again, something like a warning.

“It’s alright, don’t get rattled,” Cas tells him, but he gets his hands out of his pockets just in case he needs to act fast or something, although he doesn't really know what _something_ could be. Is he a little anxious? Yes. Is he _scared_? No… no, Seir is with him and anyway nothing ever really happens in this town, all the evil spirits that have ever lived here have been tamed by his father or brother.

As he advances through the park though he can’t help but feel something’s following him. He takes a quick glance over his shoulders once or twice but he doesn’t see anything. Seir, however, turns around in his shoulder and watches Castiel’s back in a way that is almost more disturbing than comforting. It gives the witch the feeling that something is right there behind him.

At some point though, just to be safe, he starts muttering the Satanic Bible’s Conjuration of compassion, asking Satan to watch his way and keep him from harm.

_With the anger of anguish and the wrath of the stifled, I pour forth my voices, wrapped in rolling thunder, that you may hear!,_

_Oh great lurkers in the darkness, oh guardians of the way, oh minions of the might of Thoth! Move and appear! Present yourselves to us in your benign power, on behalf of one who believes and is stricken with torment._

_Isolate him in the bulwark of your protection, for he is undeserving of anguish and desires it not. Let that which bears against him be rendered powerless and devoid of substance._

_Through the power of Satan, strike dumb his adversary, formed or formless, that he may emerge joyful and strong from that which afflicts him._

_Allow no misfortune to allay his path, for he is of us, and therefore to be cherished._

_This I command, in the name of Satan, whose mercies flourish and whose sustenance will prevail!_

_As Satan reigns so shall his own whose name is as this sound: Castiel is the vessel whose flesh is as the earth; life everlasting, world without end!_

_Shemhamforash! Hail Satan!_

He whispers the prayer time and time again, fast, almost urgent, as his pace picks up. As he finally exits the park, he’s damp and officially a little worried when Seir suddenly takes off into the night. Cas turns on the spot a little too quickly and trips over his own two feet, taking a few clumsy steps back, eyes wildly scanning the dark park, before he hits the ground and falls on the cold cement of the street. From the corner of his eye he sees a car approaching and quickly scrambles to his feet to get out of the way. The car with the noisy engine stops abruptly only a few feet away from him and none other than Dean Winchester emerges from it. They look at each other for a second, both of them breathing quickly for two different reasons.

“You okay?” Dean asks him. He gives Cas a quick once-over as if to check for any injuries.

Cas swallows hard and looks back at the park. The feeling that something’s close is gone and Seir is nowhere to be found. Dean follows his line of direction and just like him, he finds nothing interesting.

“Is someone following you?” he asks, concern obvious in his tone.

“I—no, I don’t think so…” he replies but it’s probably too low for Dean to hear. 

“Are you okay?” Dean asks again.

Castiel’s head snaps around to meet his gaze in bewilderment, as if he’s only just realizing it’s _Dean Winchester_ who’s talking to him.

“I’m fine,” he replies, tone neutral, which is the most polite Cas has ever been with him. He’s undoubtedly caught off guard by Dean’s sincere concern.

The boys stare at each other for longer than acceptable, each trying to solve a puzzle about the other and failing miserably.

Then Dean surprises Cas again by asking, “do you need a ride home, Boo Radley?”

“What?”

Dean shifts his weight from one foot to the other a little awkwardly. “I said, do you need—”

“I heard you, but why? I mean why would you drive me home?”

“It’s late and you live far from here?” Dean replies like it’s obvious, lifting an eyebrow.

“I’m an ass to you,” Cas points out, suspicious of the other’s intentions. It would be terribly tragic if he got murdered by the _one_ kid he’s sort of bullied in his entire life who is a hunter but doesn’t even seem to know it, apparently (Cas has been asking Seir to keep tabs on Dean and so far he’s only been to the library once, so it doesn’t seem that he’s visiting the bunker).

Dean snorts, smiling broadly in a way that isn’t provoking but honestly amused by the situation. It's a sight for sore eyes, he looks radiant, and Cas cannot deny that as much as he'd like to. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re owning up to it. Now get in, I’ll drop you off first.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. Get in, Cas…tiel.” Dean blushes and turns his head away, hoping Castiel can’t see his cheeks burn with embarrassment in the dark. Now he realizes how stupid he was giving _Cas_ a nickname in his head his entire life.

Cas takes another glance in the direction of the park and exhales a long breath. He really doesn’t want to get in Dean’s car because _awkward_ but something was out there and he would rather not get caught off guard again so eventually he drags his feet towards the car and gets in the passenger’s seat. 

“What are you doing out so late on a Thursday?” Castiel asks him, still not entirely sure that Dean’s not going to pull up the side of the road and beat the crap out of him for causing a scene at school last week.

“I drove Bela home, was heading back when I saw you. We, huh, got together. To study.”

“Oh…”

The mention of Bela makes Castiel’s skin crawl a little. That girl is vile, there’s just something about her that is borderline sociopathic. If only Dean knew. He could tell him but then again it may work in his favour if Bela chews Dean like a toy, breaks his heart and makes Dean realize this town sucks and he needs to get out… which isn’t entirely true, this town is pretty okay as far as small towns go, but Bela _certainly_ sucks. She’s arrogant, selfish and has a superiority complex fuelled by her parents and her obvious good looks. He’s surprised Dean can’t realize it by just talking to her for 10 minutes but then again he doesn’t really know Dean, maybe he’s a jerk too, maybe they’d make a great couple. Doubtful, he figures, as Bela doesn’t usually do charity, she’s the kind of girl who’s going to marry rich or not at all. And Dean’s… well… financially modest, to say the least, judging by the house he moved into and his obviously second-hand school books.

“What’s she like?” Dean asks, pulling Cas from his thoughts.

Cas lifts an eyebrow in his direction. “You tell me, you’re the one spending time with her.”

“Yeah but you’ve known her for a few years now, right? Come on, what’s she like?”

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Cas stares out the window, biting down his tongue to avoid using a long list of mean adjectives he could use to define Bela Talbot.

“I have nothing nice to say so I rather not say anything at all,” he concludes, which makes Dean chuckle in amusement.

“Did you just quote Bambi?” Dean takes Castiel’s confusion as a negative answer but still grins. “She’s something, isn’t’ she? She hangs out with me to annoy her dad because apparently he would _not_ consider me appropriate boyfriend material.”

“Is that what she told you?” Cas mutters.

There’s a pause from Dean. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, just—beware of her. She’s… not a nice person.”

“Warms my heart to have ya looking out for me, Cas,” Dean teases him in good spirits. Cas hugs his backpack, feeling uncomfortable with how friendly the situation is getting.

 _Mortal enemy,_ Castiel reminds himself, _this is your mortal enemy._

“We’re not friends,” he says slowly, matter-of-factly. It’s not meant to provoke Dean, it’s just a reminder.

“Yeah, no, I get that, you pretty much hate my guts for some reason.”

Cas presses the backpack even tighter to his chest, feeling like shit with himself. He doesn’t know how to be this person for a long time; cruel, aggressive, cold. He just isn’t and it’s hard to pretend that he is, even if every spell he used to curse Dean gave him some odd edge of satisfaction. When faced with the consequences, with the humans he’s hurting, he always ends up feeling guilty and like trash.

“You know, after my mom died, my dad made us move all the time. Mostly because he couldn’t keep a job for too long in the same place… We never stayed anywhere long,” Dean tells him. This time there’s something vulnerable in the tone of his voice, he’s not confident or joking around anymore. He turns left into the dirt road leading up to Cas’ house, eyes never leaving the road. “You were the only real friend I’ve ever had and I can't even remember those days. I was just… curious to get to know you. I’m sorry if I offended you somehow. Really."

The lift home ends up being almost as bad as walking with some sort of spirit stalking him, in Cas’ opinion. The guilt trip is almost unbearable. Dean’s trying hard to solve an argument he didn’t even start and here Castiel is, sitting in silence like an asshole, unable to even begin to explain to him just exactly why it is that Cas acts the way he does with him. The worst part is, the more he sits there in the car the more he starts to realize what he already suspected, that Dean is not half bad, he’s just a lost kid trying to fit in, make some friends, get his family’s shit together. Just like Cas. There’s just something familiar about Dean, it’s only a feeling born from distant memories with him that Castiel can no longer really remember for the most part but that stirs up something inside of him nonetheless.

Not only that, but having peeked into Dean’s past through the mirror did nothing but make Castiel feel sorry for him, despite how much he wants the Winchesters to leave town. He went through a lot of things a kid shouldn’t have to go through, especially alone. Cas saw Dean cry and look up at the sky asking the angels to return his mother too many times; he saw Dean and John sitting in the car for hours on end without speaking, even he was just a little boy bored out of his mind with nothing to play with but the wind blowing in his hand; he saw Dean trying to teach a baby Sam to speak just to have someone to talk to and play with. And when Sam was finally old enough to be a friend to Dean, the oldest brother still had to act like a parent, protecting Sam as much as he could from the world, from John, from life. He’s already been through so much and Cas is only adding to the mix.

“I don’t… hate you,” he eventually says as Dean pulls over by the gates. Inside his house, the lights are on, Gabe’s waiting for him. From the corner of his eye he sees Dean’s about to say something, probably ask him why he acts the way he does then if it’s not because he dislikes Dean, but Cas nearly jumps out of the car to avoid questions he can’t answer. He throws his backpack over his shoulder, glad to be home for the first time all day. “Thank you for the ride. Good night, Dean.”

“But—I—bye,” Dean stammers stupidly as Cas closes the door of the car and heads towards his house.

Dean curiously watches Cas march towards his home and his brother swing the door open waiting for him to get in. Something about his posture screams _angry parent_. Cas is in trouble, for some reason.

“Good luck with that,” Dean mutters before he drives away.

Gabe is obviously and visibly pissed, if the aura around him isn’t enough to go by. He gives Dean a look over Castiel’s shoulder as he comes in, narrowing his eyes towards the hunter but apparently leaving that topic for later because as soon as the door is closed behind his little brother, Gabriel plants his hands on his hips and gives Cas that very parent-like look that means he’s in trouble.

“You summoned a demon?” he begins, clearly agitated, both angry and worried. “You _summoned_ a _demon_ !? Cas, what the hell were you thinking! I can _still_ feel the remnants of their presence! You need to tell me _exactly_ what happened, right the hell now!”

Cas lets his backpack slide down his arm and hit the ground. He gets straight to the point, there’s no point beating around the bush. “I summoned Purson.” 

Judging by the dramatic way Gabriel holds his head in his hands, almost pulling at his hair, eyes wide in horror, Cas’ honesty is not helping him get out of trouble. 

“I know he’s dad’s friend and I thought he could help me find the key… _and_ figure out why mom closed the door,” he continues explaining quickly.

“Cas, _what the hell_! Please tell me you didn’t ask him a yes or no question…” 

“I had to know!”

“Oh, God, dad’s going to murder me!” Gabe states as he leans over the piano. “Do you realize what you did? You owe loyalty to a demon, Cas!”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “It’s not like I was planning to raise my inexistent army against him anyway.”

“Don’t you sass me right now, brother. How could you have been so reckless? Didn’t it ever occur to you that we would have asked Purson what we needed to know if it were so simple?”

“So you never asked him?”

“Of course not, Cas! You don’t go around swearing allegiance to _Kings of Hell_!”

An uncomfortable weight settles in the pit of Castiel’s stomach; if not even his father asked Purson a question, then it must be _really_ serious to owe him allegiance.

“It’s your fault anyway, you never taught me there were rules.”

His brother turns around then, face full of rage for getting blamed. “Because I never thought you’d be stupid enough to summon a demon, for Satan’s sake! Without even checking with me first!”

“You need to stop treating me like a child, you need to stop keeping information for me!” Cas yells back at him, hitting the piano with his fist. A mirror nearby cracks when hit with a wave of his anger. “You _lied_ to me! You told me nothing will happen if we open the gate and you lied to me, to my face! The peace treaty _can_ be broken, Satan can do it, and Purson confirmed someone tried to cast the spell to do it! _That_ is why mom closed the door, to save us all!”

To Castiel’s surprise, Gabe is, for once, quiet. He sets his jaw and shakes his head, lost in thought. The way he bites his lower lip and squints reflects an internal struggle inside of him. Cas wants to believe that he’s doing the math, putting the pieces of the puzzle together, instead of trying to come up with more lies and a way to divert Castiel from the truth.

“You didn’t tell me,” Cas continues, his tone accusatory, wounded. “Purson said it was basic knowledge I should know and you didn’t tell me, you didn’t teach me. Was it on purpose? Did you know—”

“Of course I didn’t!” Gabe cuts through, facing his brother with that hurt look back in his eyes. “Do you really think so low of me?”

His little brother swallows through the lump in his throat, trying to calm the turmoil inside of him. He wants to believe Gabe didn’t know anything, he wants to think he can see right through his brother’s eyes and read the truth.

“I suspected…” Gabe continues and it seems to pain him to admit this, like it’s some sort of shameful secret to have doubted one of his own, “but, Cas… The spell to ask Satan to break a deal, it’s of the most foul dark magic.”

“I know, I read it. And mom did too. She probably thought dad was the last sacrifice and she closed the door to protect him. To protect all of us.”

Gabe shakes his head from side to side, not wanting to hear out loud the things he debated with himself in secret, in _denial_ , for such a long time.

“I just—I can’t believe that our brothers would do that, Cas. I just can’t. To cast that sort of spell… one has to really be a monster and I refuse to see one of my own brothers like that. We all love dad, we all idolize the guy. I know we are not perfect but there is good in us too, in one way or the other, I have to believe that. And even if they tried, you have no idea how strong dad is. None of us could ever take him down. Well, except maybe you.”

“Unless he wasn’t expecting it, just like you.”

With his shoulders hunched forwards, Gabe sits on an armchair with his elbows on his knees and hands on his face. Cas begins to calm down just watching him, taking pity in his brother’s pain as he obviously starts suspecting that Cas might be right now that someone else is thinking the same as he is. It’s an awful situation to be in but Cas is at least glad he can talk about it with someone now, someone who will understand what this feels like.

“This is crazy, Cas.”

“Purson confirmed it.”

“How?” Gabe asks, lifting his head from his hands. “What exactly did you ask him?”

“I asked him if mom gave Mary the key because she knew someone was trying to break the peace treaty and he said yes. There’s no room for speculation there, I worded the question very carefully. I didn’t say mom _thought_ that, I said she _knew_ it.”

Castiel thinks he sees his brother’s eyes water before he closes them and leans back on the chair. It’s a few seconds before he opens them again.

“What else?”

“I asked him if the key is still in town, he said yes.”

“Good to know. And?”

“And… I kind of messed up the first question because I didn’t know the rules.”

Gabe sighs and gives Cas a look like he’s a moron.

“I just… why didn’t she tell me? If she knew, if she figured it out, why didn’t she come to me for help?”

“You would have probably tried to stop her,” Cas guesses. “You and dad, you would have wanted to find another way but there just wasn’t time. She did what she thought she had to do to protect us.”

Knowing full well that he would have absolutely tried to stop her, Gabriel doesn’t argue. He just wishes things would have been different.

“She was always a fierce lady…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Cas asks. “Why haven’t you taught me about demons and their rules, and more about traditions and history and really important things like that, Gabe?”

“Because you’re not even an adult yet, Cas, and it’s not safe for you to get involved in that sort of stuff,” Gabe explains. He sounds tired and Castiel can relate to being emotionally exhausted. “And with the gate of Hell closed, dad and I never thought it was relevant to teach you those subjects because they don’t apply to you yet. I thought I’d focused on helping you control your powers which are already abnormally strong, and teach you magic that you can actually use. Why would I teach you to summon demons, Cas? Why would I teach you how to break deals? You should not be meddling with those sorts of spells, shouldn’t even be making deals in the first place—which I hope you know. You should have trusted me and come to me first if you had any questions.”

Stewing in guilt over the whole thing, Cas takes a seat by the piano and plays with the hem of his shirt. Gabe was just trying to protect him, of course he was, that’s all he’s ever done.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you first,” Cas says in a little voice.

Gabe smiles tiredly, glad that they’ve reached the peak of their argument and now they’re coming down from it but obviously still upset about the whole thing and its consequences. “And I’m sorry I didn't’ tell you one of our brothers might be a psychopath… I didn’t want to face that possibility... But I still think we should open the door.” Cas opens his mouth to protest but Gabe holds a hand up. “Look, Cas, don’t you think those people who were murdered deserve some justice? We can tell dad what you know and he will make sure to stop it from happening again.”

“He didn’t stop it before.”

“Because he never thought to suspect his own children. Just as I never thought you’d summon a demon. Shit happens. But this time we know where to look for the culprit. If we open the gates, we get our family back—well, most of it I guess, we get your mum back _and_ we bring justice for the mortals. You just need to have some faith in me, Cas. I _promised_ you I’m not going to let anything dangerous get through that door. So are you with me or not?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gif sources:  
> little Dean gif: theletters2juliet  
> book: I cannot for the life of me read that small font, but you guys see it so there's that  
> flickering lights: same as above. Maybe I need glasses.  
> Impala: google search, source unknown
> 
> The prayer to Satan is a portion of an actual prayer taken from the Satanic Bible by the way, cut to fit the purpose of the story.
> 
> Like what you see? Leave a comment saying so then! ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double trouble for you today, my loves.

“Dean... have you made any friends at school?” Sam asks him on Friday night.

His dad has gone to bed but the boys are up watching reruns of Jurassic Park on TV, stuffing their faces with popcorn and m&ms. During the TV commercials, Sam drops this awkward question. He’s worried about Dean, no question there, and he’s certainly noticed Dean’s persistent lack of social life. After all, Dean spends most of his free time with his little brother while Sam can opt to hang out with Eileen and Barry, with whom he’s quickly becoming close friends.

“Sure, I have a date tomorrow,” Dean proudly tells him. 

Sam’s nose wrinkles a little in disapproval. “Really? With Bela?”

The way he says her name makes Dean turn away from the TV to throw a pillow at him.

“Hey, be nice!”

“But there’s just something about her face. She looks around the house like she’s going to catch the plague here or something.”

_ I know, right?  _ Dean can’t help but agree with his brother internally. He’s noticed that too and it does bother him. His place is not nearly as big, nicely decorated or fancy as hers but damn, Dean really likes their house. It’s  _ theirs _ , he’d probably still like it if it was a dumpster with good heating.

“Well, she’s nice to me so quit it.”

“Alright,” his little brother grumbles but there’s obviously so much more he wants to say on the subject.

Truth be told, Dean’s not nearly as excited about his date the next day as he would normally be and that’s absolutely related to Bela being the person he’s going out with. Still, he makes a mental note to make an effort, have fun and spend as much time out of his house as possible so his dad thinks he’s adapting well... which he isn’t but John doesn’t need to know that. 

He picks her up around 6 pm to see a movie. He dresses nice for the occasion, with his newest jeans, a clean shirt and a nice jacket his dad lends him. His looks don’t seem to impress Bela’s dad though, who low-key threatens Dean to ensure he gets Bela back before 10 pm. With his fancy, pompous clothes, hair pulled back with gel, his big ass colonial house and hatred for the lower class boy dating his daughter, it’s no wonder Bela’s been brought up to be, well, kind of a jerk, to put it nicely. Dean takes pity on her a little, which is hilarious because she’s got everything—the house, two parents, financial support, popularity, looks, a bright future ahead of her for sure—but still seems to be such an empty person. He wonders if he could get through to her and bring out something good in her,  _ if _ there’s still any kindness at all to bring out in the first place.

At least Bela’s anything but boring and knows how to hold a conversation. On the way to the movies they talk about books and she is surprised to hear Dean’s read some of the classics she likes. Dean tries not to read into her comment but he can’t help but think it’s again a classist thing; what a surprise, the poor boy with low grades knows how to read! If only people knew how many miles he’s had to travel, reading was for the most part the only entertainment the boys had. Dean preferred fiction, Sam always got ahead of the school program so as to not fall behind due to all the moving from here to there. Dean could never be that disciplined. 

They agree to see a rerun of The Rear Window, which is being screened as a part of a year long Alfred Hitchcock movies special. Dean’s excited, he’s already seen the movie but has no problem watching it again, and Bela’s looking forward to seeing Grace Kelly in action who, in her opinion, is the most beautiful woman that ever lived. Dean kind of agrees there. While they’re buying candy they run into some of Bela’s friends. They whisper with each other in a corner while Dean waits in line, occasionally throwing quick glances in his direction which makes him a little anxious. He wonders if they’ll be joining the girls’ party and debates with himself whether that’d be a good or bad thing; in the one hand, it wouldn’t hurt to expand his circle of friends which right now looks more like a dot, a one entity group, but, in the other hand, he’s not sure he wants to be friends with some of them. Two out of three he’s seen laughing at his misfortunes, either when Dick was being  _ a dick _ to him or when something unfortunate happened to him, like one of those stupid, clumsy accidents that he gets himself into damn often lately. 

In the end, it turns out they have tickets for another movie so it’s again just Bela and him, for better or for worse. The movie’s awesome and she seems to enjoy it. She doesn’t mind it when Dean makes  _ the move _ to put an arm around her and he smiles to himself, feeling a little more relaxed as things progress in the right direction. After the movie, Dean drives them to the lake with the intention of sitting in the pier which in his mind is supposed to be romantic but Bela refuses to get out of the car and laughs when he suggests they sit on the wooden boards with their feet dangling off the edge. Apparently her skirt is too precious for the outdoors, she doesn’t want it getting dirty. Bela doesn’t ask him to take her anywhere else though, so they park there for a while which, in the end, is also romantic. The moon casts a beautiful light over the lake even though it’s somewhat cloudy and a chilly breeze sets the mood for cuddling.

Before Dean knows what’s happening, Bela pulls him in for a kiss. He’s taken aback by her forwardness but he doesn’t waste time catching up, running his fingers through her hair and kissing her back, using all his best moves on her. They make out for a while, pretty hot and steamy, a little aggressive and not sweet at all, sort of the kissing version of angry sex, but that’s as far as they go; apparently neither of them is looking for more, at least not on their first date.

Finally, when they pull away for air, she grins and says, “I’ve got to give it to you, Dean, whatever they say about you, you’re pretty fun to go out with. Great kisser.”

“What  _ do _ they say about me?”

Bela lifts an eyebrow and smirks. “Are you sure you want to know?”

Dean only needs to think about it for a second to decide that no, he really doesn’t, although he probably already knows what people say about him. “Yeah, better not.”

She laughs and sits back on the leather seat, getting comfortable. “If it makes you feel any better, you’re not the only one with a reputation. This small town people,” she huffs and rolls her eyes at them, all those little towns people who don’t know better than her, “they get scandalized over the dumbest things.”

“Oh, I don’t know, nobody seems to have  _ my _ reputation. It’s like I’m an escaped convict or something.” This makes her laugh which throws him off a little, he was being serious. Then, curiosity gets the best of him so he asks her, “who else has a reputation?”

Bela whistles and starts counting with her fingers. “Garth, the weird, tall and skinny kid?” Dean nods to show that he recognizes him. “Everyone used to say he was slow, to put it nicely.”

“Why?”

As far as Dean knows there seems to be nothing wrong with that kid, he just seems like a quiet, introverted dude who usually has a gentle and bubbly demeanour about him.

Bela shrugs, a mean smile pulling at the corner of her lips. “He’s weird. You know the redhead in our class? Gay.”

Dean blinks a few times, needing a moment to catch up with her. “Is that supposed to be a bad thing?”

Bela snorts and throws her arms out. “It’s the middle of fucking nowhere, Dean,  _ of course _ it’s a bad thing. Or at least not a great thing. Anything out of the norm is bad here.”

“Oh,” is all he replies, shifting a little uncomfortably in his seat. If only they knew the way he feels about men… Well, apparently he’s going to have to save that for college too.

“You know Meg? We just saw her at the movies?” 

“Sure,” he says, but he’s not really sure which of the three girls she’s talking about.

“She’s one of Dick’s friends? The brunette one. Anyway, her family's loaded, word is they’re into something weird. You know, like crime or something. No one has any clue what her mother does and Meg seems to like it that way.”

Dean barks a laugh at the insinuation. “Organized crime in  _ this _ little town?”

“I know, right? Ridiculous,” Bela agrees, again rolling her eyes. It seems to Dean that most things if not everything about this town, including its people, are frustrating to Bela, nonsensical or downright silly and therefore not worth her time. The Londoner is used to  _ real _ drama, big cities, big entertainment, and has no patience for or interest in the small town scene. Suddenly she snorts again, running a hand down her face like she can’t even believe what she’s about to say. “Then there’s the case of Castiel. Jesus, you should just  _ hear _ the things they say about him.”

“What do they say about him?” he asks, trying to hide how obviously curious he is about the topic of Castiel Novak, of all the people in town.

Bela can’t help but giggle a little as she obviously finds the entire matter ridiculous, pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers. “The legend goes,” she tells him with a faked dramatic tone, “he comes from a family of  _ witches _ . Can you believe that?”

“Were there any witch trials here?”

“No, apparently they had some kind of deal with the Campbells, who ran the town at the time.” Dean’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise when he hears his family’s name from his mother’s side but Bela doesn’t seem to notice. “Something like you don’t mess with us, we don’t mess with you, you know? One would think those superstitions would, like, die down but not in  _ this  _ town. I swear to you, I have heard  _ so _ many rumours and stories about Castiel’s house being haunted with angry ghosts that will come after you if you piss him off. No one has been there in years… well, except for that weird lady, Kali.

When Dean shrugs like he has no idea who that is, she explains, “she’s some sort of anthropologist lady that’s been working here, she does research or something, with church records. A real weirdo, that one. Apparently she had a thing with Castiel’s uncle. Anyway, Dick, of all people,  _ actually _ keeps his distance from Castiel, have you ever noticed? He told me he stopped messing with Castiel after a series of mysterious incidents started happening to him and he swears that whenever something happened, Castiel would be around and he’d be looking at Dick like he was trying to attack him with the power of his mind.”

At this point, Bela has tears in her eyes from laughing and shakes her head from side to side, mocking her own friends under her breath as she tries to recover. Dean doesn’t really think it’s that funny; it’s odd, maybe, but not funny. He knows what it’s like to be an outcast and it’s anything  _ but _ funny.

“What does Castiel say about that?”

“He doesn’t seem to mind,” Bela responds as she wipes her tears away with the back of her hand. “I guess he prefers people stay away from him. I mean, the rumours are like a bully shield for him, he’s playing his cards right.”

“Must be hard, though, growing up in a place where people think you’re cursed or something.”

“They used to have a bad reputation for sure. I heard they were banned from the local churches. Then there’s the mysterious disappearance of his parents.”

“I thought they were dead?”

Bela leans in, narrowing her eyes and whispering mysteriously, “no one knows for sure. Around the time of the murders, his dad just disappeared. Fergus’ dad’s in the police. He told us his dad told him that Castiel’s uncle reported his brother had business to attend abroad and decided not to return after all. Gabriel refused to give any more information about his family when questioned but there was no forensic evidence to link them to the murders so they had no grounds to demand any information.”

“What about his mother?”

“She was reported missing a while after Castiel’s father left and was never found. Everyone assumes she was murdered back in the day by the  _ Phantom Reaper _ ,” she tells him, using air quotes and all. She rolls her eyes again, playing with her hair like they’re discussing the weather and not serious matters that probably ruined Cas’ life. “What a stupid name, ‘ _ the Phantom Reaper _ . Oh, boy, small town superstition is crazy...”

Something in Dean’s chest tightens, his mouth goes dry. He realizes what she’s talking about; the same psycho that murdered his grandparents. John didn’t talk much about it, Dean didn’t ask either after he got the truth from his dad when he was around 8 and asked him where his grandparents were; John’s parents had passed even before the boys were born and Mary’s were murdered by a serial killer that was active in their town around the time Mary passed (and then John had to explain that no, the guy didn’t start the fire Mary died in, that was just some weird wiring accident according to the investigation that followed). It wasn’t a happy thing to talk about so Dean avoided it all together, until he got the story from Bela at least.

He doesn’t share his thoughts with Bela though, he doesn’t feel comfortable opening up and being vulnerable with her but he definitely wants to talk to someone about it. He wonders if she knew his grandparents were victims, if she wouldn take the topic more seriously then.

“Others say it was Castiel’s father all along and he just fled the country,” she continues.

This senseless gossip enrages Dean. “ _ What? _ That’s idiotic, he would have never done that.”

Bela, surprised by his outburst, eyes him curiously. “How would you know?”

“Because I  _ know _ he was in love with her. And he was—he was a nice guy. My mom told me. Well, she didn’t  _ tell  _ me but I read it in her diary.”

“You read your mom’s diary?” She pulls a face that, should she have been a dude, would have earned her a punch in the face from Dean. “That’s… a little weird.”

Dean blushes and averts his eyes. This chick has as much empathy for others as a teaspoon. “It makes me feel close to her, alright?”

They both look ahead into the lake for a few minutes in tense silence. Bela’s touched a nerve there. Dean knows it’s not  _ great _ that he’s reading his mother’s diary, that it’s an invasion of her privacy, but he would have appreciated a little sympathy. 

From the corner of his eye, he can see her shaking her head from side to side. A few moments later, she mutters under her breath, “I can’t wait to get out of this town.”

Dean turns in his seat to study her and for the first time he sees real emotions there, not cocky or smug, but really angry and frustrated.

“It’s not so bad,” Dean tries to comfort her. 

“Says the kid with no friends,” she points out with a rather abrupt lack of sensitivity, which again doesn’t sit well with him. “I thought you’d agree with me.”

Annoyed, he responds, “well, I’m still trying to make it work.”

It becomes evident to Dean that there’s not much there to work with between them, they’re too fundamentally different. She’s the kind of person he wouldn’t mind leaving behind if he moved elsewhere while the whole point is to make real connections, not superficial ones. It all comes down to what he wants the most, a friend for the sake of having someone to talk to or some dignity because putting up with Bela starts to mean he has to put up with a lot of comments he doesn’t appreciate and he has to bite his tongue to avoid saying just as abrupt and insensitive comments himself. He doesn’t want to be mean to her but his patience is wearing rather thin.

And what’s the point of having a friend who looks down on you anyway? Sure, she said from the start that she wanted to piss off her dad by hanging out with him but he’d thought that with time, after talking a few times, he’d grow on her. If that’s happened it’s really hard to tell. She’s still got this superiority attitude about her that drives him nuts, makes him feel like he’s a charity case for her, like she thinks he’s so lucky for being granted the pleasure of her attention. This isn’t what he wants from a friend in the end, he doesn’t want someone who thinks they’re better than him. He wants to befriend someone kind, loyal, thoughtful. Bela shares rumours about her own friends and has no problem referring to them as small town people in a demeaning way. If she does that with her friends, God knows what she must tell others about Dean. He doesn’t feel like he can’t trust her, tell her his secrets, be vulnerable and open up, so what’s the point here?

In the end they cut the date short even if it’s still early. It’s a mutual and tacit decision. Dean drops off but doesn’t return home. He drives around for a while until he sees the lights in the school grounds are still on and decides to make a stop. He finds a forgotten ball and entertains himself for some time, trying to balance it on his feet for as long as possible before it hits the ground. He doesn’t like sports but he doesn’t want to go home where Sam and John will automatically know the date was a failure. Let them think he’s out there living his best life, it works for everybody. He sits for a while against the goal post, enjoying what little time he has where he doesn’t have to pretend he’s okay but also feeling miserably lonely. He would much rather be home hanging out with his brother. Why is it so weird to want to hang out with his little brother? He’ll never get that but he also doesn’t want to take up all of Sammy’s time.

The next day he goes back to his mission of trying to find what on Earth his mother’s key opens but no store he visits has any strange door or lock and there are no abandoned places in town either that could bring an answer to this mystery. It gives him something to do, walking around like that, a reason to get out of the house so his dad and Sam won’t worry about him being there cooped up all alone while they do their own things. Somehow in the early afternoon he ends up in the cemetery again, sitting in front of his mother’s grave where he lays a few wild flowers. Plucking grass while he stares at his mom’s grave he can’t help but wonder for the millionth time if coming back was a mistake, but then he thinks about how bitter Bela is and he tries to appreciate other things about living there, like having a roof over his head, Sam being happy, his dad being able to keep a job. It’s a cute little town too, and the woods and lakes around it are nice. It’s not as bad as Bela makes it out to be, something in him wants to fight her when she speaks ill about his hometown, to prove her wrong.

“Excuse me,” a voice startles Dean, who turns around so fast he almost hurts his neck. A man he finds faintly familiar is standing behind him with an apologetic look on his face. He has a small bucket of daisies in his right hand. “I didn’t mean to startle you, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Dean replies with a smile.

“You’re Mary’s boy, right? Dean?”

“Yeah?”

The man’s eyes go a little watery and his smile trembles. Dean stands up slowly, feeling awkward as he has no idea what’s going on. He knows this man, he’s sure he does, he just can’t quite remember where from.

“Do you remember me?” he asks, reading in Dean’s eyes that he’s having trouble placing him. “I’m Castiel’s grandfather?”

Dean clicks his tongue and nods a few times; he’s seen this man in a photograph before, a really old one from when his mom was a kid. He looks different now, older of course, but apart from that obvious factor there’s just something about him that screams  _ tired _ . He moves slowly, like he has nowhere else to be, kind of like Dean at the time.

“Oh, yes! I saw a picture of you. I can’t really remember you from when I was a kid though, sorry,” he smiles apologetically and rubs the back of his neck.

“That’s alright,” the other replies as he moves towards the grave to lay down the daisies. Dean instantly feels a wave of gratitude for this man, for that simple gesture. “You mom loved daisies,” he explains. “When she was a kid, she had a dress with daisies. She wore it all the time. When she grew up, my wife sewed a new one for her, she loved it.”

Dean coughs to get the lump in his throat to come down. “Thank you. For bringing her flowers.”

Castiel’s grandfather nods and stares at the grave for a few seconds, they both do. It’s an emotional situation, but weirdly enough the moment isn’t awkward anymore. It’s nice to have someone else there by his side to remember and grieve for his mother, for some odd, maybe selfish reason Dean is glad that someone else misses her too, someone else still thinks about her. It comforts him to think that while they were gone, someone else brought her flowers and remembered her. 

“She was like a daughter to me, you know? And my daughter, she, hmm…” He stops and Dean waits as the man gathers himself before continuing. “We never found a body so there’s no grave. I like to think I’m bringing flowers for the both of them.”

“I was very sad to find out about Clarice. I didn’t know she… we didn’t know. I really wanted to meet her. For what I heard about her, she sounded lovely.”

The older man gives Dean a shaky smile, tears forming in his eyes. “Thank you, that’s very nice of you to say.”

They look at each other, both sad about the circumstances but both glad to have found each other nonetheless. For a moment it seems the man’s going to walk away, but then an idea occurs to him.

“If you’d like to visit me sometime, I could show you pictures of them. Clarice and Mary. They did everything together, since they were little girls. I think Mary is in half our family pictures,” he chuckles.

“Well, I don’t have anything to do right now,” Dean suggests, hoping the invitation is honest. It feels honest, it feels like Clarice’s father wants the company almost as much as Dean does. Judging by the way his face lights up, Dean figures he’s right.

Before leaving, Castiel’s grandfather gives him a moment to say goodbye to his mother. He has no idea what she’d think of him, hanging out by himself in a cemetery. He doubts this is what she wanted for him.

Dean follows the man to his house, driving behind his car until they reach the house that Dean knows belonged to their grandparents, as John pointed out when they arrived and drove by the house. Right next to them lived Clarice’s parents. His home feels a little stuck in time, with the old decoration from decades ago absolutely untouched, but it still has some cozy feel to it. It’s deadly quiet though except for a tiny, fluffy dog that comes to greet them, wagging his tail so happily, so fast he may break it. Dean’s not really a dog person but this hairy fella, with his curls so long they partly cover his eyes, does look rather adorable.

“Would you like something to drink?” Oliver, Castiel’s grandfather, asks him as he moves into the kitchen to pour himself some water.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Come in, take a seat, take a seat,” he tells Dean, who again mutters a shy thank you before taking a seat at the little dining table. The dog follows him, standing in his back legs with his front legs patting Dean’s incessantly for attention. He pets the dog to calm him down and it also gives him something to do with his hands.

“I would offer you something to eat but, huh, I’m afraid I don’t have anything special. My wife used to bake all the time but I never got around to learn how to do it myself,” he tells Dean. The man strikes him as a lonely person and not by choice, much like himself, and so he sympathizes automatically with him.

“That’s okay, I’m not hungry anyway,” he lies. He’d love some pie, honestly.

Oliver puts two glasses of water on the table and grabs a photo hanging on the wall before sitting down himself. He gives the picture to Dean and explains, “that’s my wife, Elena. She passed away not long after my daughter disappeared. It was just… too much for her. I was leaving flowers for her too when I saw you at the cemetery. Oh, I’ll be right back, I’ll go get the photo albums.”

Dean takes the picture as the man stands up again and disappears off to another room. He turns the frame around in his hands and looks down at it. When he sees the woman standing next to Oliver in the picture, the blood drains from his face; it’s that woman he saw at Castiel’s house. He’s sure, he doesn’t have the faintest doubt about it, she looks  _ the exact same _ except that it’s impossible that he saw her. His mind can’t come to a conclusion, one side screams  _ it’s impossible! _ while the other one insists to know that he saw what he saw and that was this lady, talking to him, alive but apparently not quite so.

Faintly, in the back of his mind, he can hear Bela’s voice whispering about Castiel’s house and how people think it’s haunted. 

At the time when he saw Castiel’s grandmother at the house, he had thought she looked very odd, but he thought her paleness and strange behaviour were something related to illness or simply being inside the house too much, but not because she was… she was a…

“God, she was a  _ ghost _ !” Dean whispers in a shaky, slightly hysterical voice.

When Oliver comes back into the room, Dean can’t help but jump in his chair.

“Are you alright?” his host asks him, taken aback by Dean’s abrupt reaction. “You don’t look well.”

For a moment Dean just gapes at him, not sure what to say. Should he tell him? Does he  _ know _ ? What if he doesn’t and he thinks Dean’s mad or pulling his leg? The most sensitive and reasonable choice at the time is to keep his mouth shut and pretend nothing happened, but  _ what the hell _ , honestly.

“I’m fine,” he replies, his voice breaking a little. He coughs, then says in a steadier voice, “I’m fine. Sorry, I think my blood pressure went down or something.”

“Would you like something? Maybe I can make you a sandwich?”

“No, no, it’s fine, really,” he insists. He gives Oliver his most convincing smile and grabs the album he’d left on the table, pulling it towards him. “So my mum is in these?”

“Oh, yes,” Oliver smiles with enthusiasm, like he couldn’t be happy there’s someone interested in his family photo album. “Clarice and Mary were practically sisters, they were born a few months apart and became inseparable. They went back and forwards between our houses like they lived in both places. We even kept an extra mattress in Clarice’s room just for Mary.”

Oliver opens the album and starts pointing out pictures, mentioning dates and events. Dean lets him go on and on, enjoying hearing him speak just as much as the man enjoys having someone who will listen to this sort of stuff. Dean will listen to whatever story anyone tells him about his mom.

“What was my mom like?” 

“She had so much energy. She was so positive and outgoing, fearless really. Clarice was more quiet and cautious, you know? Sensitive. But she would follow your mother into all kinds of trouble, she didn’t take no bullshit from anybody..”

Dean chuckles and Oliver smiles from ear to ear. 

“You could not tell Mary Campbell what to do, not even her daddy… I guess that’s why she had such a rocky relationship with your grandparents towards the end.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she always spoke about leaving town, always, which Samuel didn’t approve of at all. She wanted to travel, look for something else. I don’t know what, a better life for you kids, I suppose. It was odd, she loved the town but she…” Oliver pauses and thinks how to describe it best although he isn’t sure he understood Mary’s motives very well. “It’s like she didn’t want the weight of her family’s history, the responsibility of the name?”

Confused once more, Dean asks again, “what do you mean?”

“The Campbells were amongst the founders of this town. They helped build it and protect it and its people. The library was completely designed, founded and built by them, did you know that? It belonged to them for many years, as did other buildings, until they donated them to the municipality. They were very well respected and always involved in the community. The Campbells were mayors many times too. Popular people. So imagine Samuel’s disappointment when she started saying she wanted to leave.”

“Why didn’t she?”

Oliver sighs and looks down at the photos again. So does Dean, to see a picture of his mom and Clarice in what appears to be prom night. Her father’s standing next to Mary, smiling from ear to ear like he’s the luckiest man in the world. It makes Dean want to smile and cry at the same time.

“Mary always thought Clarice would come with her, it was the plan all along. They did everything together after all. I didn’t love it, I have to admit, didn’t want my daughter to leave, but I wasn’t nearly as against it as the Campbells. I am ashamed to say I wasn’t supportive, financially I mean. Maybe if I had, if they had left, things would have turned out to be different…” 

The old man runs a hand down his face and takes a quick look at Dean over the corner of his eyes. He’s ashamed of himself, of his actions, and the guilt weights his shoulders down. Dean doesn’t judge him though, he patiently waits for the rest of the story, sitting on the edge of his seat with all the built up curiosity. This is the longest someone’s talked to him about his mother, after all.

“After school, they stayed for a little longer, they were saving up to move away, Mary, John and Clarice. John was just following Mary’s wishes, he didn’t mind the town but he wanted to make her happy. Still your granfather blamed  _ him  _ for some reason, didn’t think he was good enough for her or something. How is John, by the way? Always liked the kid, made Mary really happy. Of course, he’s not a kid anymore...”

For a moment Dean hesitates. He doesn’t like talking about his dad and his issues to strangers. A part of him is ashamed of John, another part wants to protect him from being called a shitty dad. Even if he was, Dean feels only he and Sammy have the right to say that. But Oliver is opening up to him, even if he’s not sharing anything secret, so Dean figures he owes him the same.

“He’s better,” Dean tells him in a quiet voice, praying to God, if there’s one out there, that Oliver will keep this to himself. “After my mom died, he… he lost it. He was very depressed for a long time, he took to booze to handle it. It took some trial and error but I think he’s finally getting better. Been sober for a while now so that’s good. Hope it lasts this time.”

Clarice’s father purses his lips into a thin line and nods before he pats Dean’s shoulder twice. They smile at each other, finding some sort of comfort in having someone to talk to about these things. He’s the only one so far who’s never looked at Dean with pity but honest and kind interest.

“Glad to hear that. If you boys need anything, you can come to me, you know? For anything. And I’d love to meet Sam too. You’re the closest to family I have left.”

Dean frowns; that can’t be right, there’s still one person left for him. “What about Castiel?”

Oliver’s face does a 180° degree change. He goes from understanding and a little emotional to hard and cold, withdrawn.

“That family’s cursed,” he whispers and he means it so much it catches Dean off guard. It sounds almost like a warning to him, so full of anger, of resentment. “Everything changed the day  _ he _ came. Charles Novak, I mean. I should have just given Clarice the money to go… But he came first and she fell in love with him. I found him a little odd at first but he seemed alright, nice and polite, you know? Mary didn’t like him at all for her, I never knew why, maybe she was jealous because suddenly Clarice changed her mind about wanting to leave, but I took it as a sign, I trusted Mary’s judgement. Something was off about Charles.”

“But I thought they were happy?”

“They were, she was so in love so I didn’t say anything… But when they got married she got secretive—”

Before Dean can help himself, he interrupts and asks, “how so?”

Oliver, thankfully, doesn’t mind the interruption but he struggles to find the words. “It was strange, she just—for example, she never wanted us to visit them, she would always come here instead. It worried me that something might be wrong at home but Mary—she did go up to their house—Mary promised me everything was fine. They would never say much about his family or what he did for a living, he was a living mystery, and I didn’t like that. I always felt like he was hiding something and Clarice was covering up for him… In the end, she stayed for him and Mary stayed for her, and it was their doom.”

Dean looks down when he hears the paper of the scrapbook being crushed under Oliver’s hand. Urgently but gently he places his hand over his and Oliver lets go immediately, tending to the wrinkled pages like he’s sorry to have hurt them. His eyes stay focused on a picture of Clarice, young and happy, carrying a little Castiel on his arms that can’t be more than a few days old. She’s glowing, smiling from ear to ear, her mother’s arms around her.

“I will never know what happened to her, do you know what’s that like? It’s a father’s worst nightmare… He left her alone, he should have been there to protect her, and I... I always thought he had something to do with her disappearance.”

“I’m very sorry for your loss…” Dean swallows, wondering if he should say what he’s really thinking or if he’d be crossing a line. He really doesn't know him that well, or Castiel, but he can’t help but think how stupid it is to forsake his grandchild because he hates Cas’ father. What a shame, what a dumb waste. “With all due respect, though… That’s just ridiculous. He was really in love with her, he would have never harmed her; I read it in my mom’s diary and you said you trusted her judgement, right? I don’t know what happened to him but he couldn’t have hurt her.” 

Oliver’s face turns cold. Obviously, he doesn’t like this young boy telling him how to feel about his own family, so Dean continues talking before the old man cuts his invitation short.

“Look, I have almost no family left. Just my dad and my brother. And at times, I had only my brother. I would give anything to have a larger family. Castiel is right here, alive. He’s  _ her _ son too.”

“You don’t understand—”

“You’re probably right, I don’t. But I know what it’s like to be blamed for things you didn’t do. Hating him because you hate his dad… It just doesn’t seem very fair to me. I wish I had a grandfather and I am sure Castiel does too. That’s all, sir.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on fire today.

Castiel knows something’s about to happen before Charlie even reaches their table, he can see it in the urgent expression on her face.

“What now?” Benny, sitting next to Cas, mutters to himself.

Charlie’s trotting towards their table, which in itself is something; she always says she’d only run for her life, she can’t fathom people actually do it for  _ fun _ . When she reaches the table, she slumps on the empty space next to Garth, panting, and slams her palms on the table.

“I just overheard Bela and Dick talking in the hallway about getting back together,” she says very quickly, almost too quickly for them to understand.

Grinning with irony, Benny responds, “good for them.”

She clicks her tongue and gives him a look like he’s been dense. “This proves my theory that she’s just using Dean to get back at Dick!”

“Okay, so…”

“So we should do something about it!”

“I do not engage in high school drama, you know that,” Castiel says, detaching himself from the complicated topic of Dean Winchester as soon as possible. Lately he’s started to develop some sympathy towards him which is less than ideal considering that, first of all, he’s a hunter, and on the other hand Gabriel has finally convinced him to open the gate of Hell which means he’s back on track with the plan to steal Dean’s blood. That can’t possibly lead to them being friends.

“You used to be the target of high school drama, Cas, can’t you relate a little?”

“I’m happy to be out of the spotlight, Charlie.”

She huffs in indignation, staring back at Cas like she can’t believe her ears. “At his expense?”

“Okay, okay, calm down, both of you,” Benny cuts it before things get heated. Castiel gives him a  _ what did I do this time _ sort of look while Garth watches the three of them in silence, not knowing what to do. “Look, Charlie, if you want to tell Dean, I support you. I am personally not going to tell him something I didn’t hear.  _ I _ have no proof she’s up to anything. Do I believe you? Yes, I do, I wouldn’t put it past her to use others. You don’t need our permission to do anything.”

“You’re right,” she nods to herself like this is a sudden realization she came up with all by herself. “You’re absolutely right. I am Charlie goddamn Bradbury, I can do whatever I want.”

“Well, not  _ whatever _ —”

“Peace out, Charlie’s off to save some lives.”

Charlie takes off all of a sudden, forgetting her lunch on the table. Garth tries to call after her but she’s sprinting surprisingly fast out of the cafeteria. She knows Dean usually has lunch all by himself outside in the bleachers and just as expected she finds him there, nose buried in some book with a leather cover, absentmindedly chewing on potatoes. When she collapses on the bleachers, holding a hand to her heart which is about to explode in her chest, he drops his book and hurries to her.

“Are you alright?” he asks her, thinking she fell or something, never expecting someone to actually go looking for him on purpose.

The redhead holds a finger up and makes him wait while she tries to recover her breath.

“I need to talk to you,” she finally says. After a few more seconds of inhaling and exhaling deeply, she adds, “about Bela.”

“What about her?”

“She’s using you!” she blurts out then realizes she’s being way too harsh too suddenly. She blushes furiously, hoping to God he doesn’t think she’s just some weird jerk who makes up things about other people, and the truth starts rolling out her down so fast he can barely follow up with her. “She used to be Dick Romans’s girlfriend but over the summer he was a complete jerk and he was totally flirting with this other girl and Bela got really jealous because, you know Bela, she thinks she’s the center of the universe and the best person to have ever walked this little undeserving town so how dare him, right? So she broke up with him but it’s a total power play, she wants him back, not because they’re in love but because that’s just Bela, so I am positive she’s using you to make him jealous. At first I was only 80% sure but I’ve just overheard them talking about getting back together so I’m 100% sure. I really hope that you believe me and that you don’t think I’m just a gossip. I don’t usually like to talk behind people’s back but I really think you should know.”

Dean blinks a few times as he processes everything. It takes his brain a minute to get up to speed with her speech. He doesn’t really need to debate much with himself to decide that he actually believes her.

“Alright… Alright, yeah, I believe you.”

“ _ What _ ? Really? That easy?”

He shrugs and goes back to his previous spot on the bleachers, throwing a potato into his mouth carelessly. “I thought she was using me to get back at her dad for making her move here, so it’s a tomato tomahto sort of situation here. We had a date on Saturday, it didn’t go very well anyway so you may say I am not by all means devastated. I thought we could warm up to each other but I see now that I was wrong.”

“I’m sorry anyway,” Charlie tells him as she climbs up the bleachers so sit next to him. She shrugs her backpack off and looks inside for her lunch before moaning as she realizes that she forgot it all the way back in the cafeteria. “Dammit, I forgot my lunch.”

“You can have mine if you want,” Dean offers, pushing his tupperware towards her.

Charlie takes a look down at his baked potatoes and chicken and licks her lips, then looks up at him again. “You sure?”

Dean chuckles. He’s not sure why but he instantly likes this girl. He’s got a clumsy nerd vibe that he digs. “I’m sure.”

“Thank you.”

Charlie digs in right away, shamelessly grabbing his fork and moaning with pleasure as she chews on the potatoes.

“God, these are  _ good _ ,” she mumbles, mouth full of food.

“Right? I spent years perfecting them.”

“You cook?”

Before he can help himself, he says, “someone had to.”

He freezes, overthinking what he just said and wondering if she’ll pick up on what he meant; his dear daddy was a heavy alcoholic so since he was very young Dean had to struggle to keep them fed which involved a lot of experimental cooking, particularly of cheap goods like potatoes. If she does know something, she doesn't show it.

“So, I take it you don’t like Bela, huh?”

Charlie snorts in response. “You may say we’re not the closest friends.”

“She’s…” Dean takes a deep breath as he searches for a word that describes her without being too harsh. “How do you say patronising and inconsiderate without being mean?”

“I’m afraid you can’t,” she laughs. “Why were you hanging out with her in the first place?”

“Well, as you may have realized, I’m not in a position to pick and choose friends,” he points out, throwing his arms out and looking around the empty bleachers.

“You just need to get to know the cool people.”

He lifts an eyebrow and smirks. “Like you, misses Ravenclaw?” he teases her, pointing at her Harry Potter socks.

“Ravenclaw and proud,” she retorts in a playfully serious tone. “No, but really… Do you want to hang out sometime? Like tomorrow after school, maybe?”

Dean eyes her suspiciously for a moment, remembering she’s Castiel’s friend. He wouldn’t ask his friends to pull a prank on him or something… would he? As much as he can’t understand Castiel’s dislike of him, the youngest Novak still doesn’t strike Dean as a meaninglessly cruel person.

So there’s the other possibility; someone potentially nice wants to hang out with Dean. They’re actually making plans with him and maybe he’s just a little pathetic but he gets so excited about it all of a sudden that he has to tell himself to keep his cool.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure.”

“Cool.”

They both smile at each other for a second before Charlie looks down at the journal he’d been reading and asks about it.

“It’s my mom’s journal,” he explains, then instantly regrets it when he remembers Bela’s reaction to it and how she made him feel embarrassed about the situation. “She passed away when I was little. It kind of helps me feel closer to her when I read it, you know? Like I’m getting to know her better.”

“It makes sense,” she agrees, tone soft and kind, for which he’s immensely grateful. “My mom actually went to school with your parents. She won’t admit to it but I think she had a crush on your dad.”

Dean snorts and starts chuckling. “Really?”

“Yeah, apparently he was really handsome,” Charlie laughs. “Please don’t tell her I told you. I bet she wouldn’t mind telling you some stories about her, if you ask her.”

“That’d be great, thank you.”

“It’s kind of weird, though,” she comments, eyes still on the journal. “I feel like I’ve seen that somewhere.”

“What?”

“This symbol.” She points at the unicursal hexagram Dean’s mom drew in the top margin, biting her lip as she tries to think where she’s seen that before. Mary drew that symbol a few times throughout the pages like a normal person would repeat a doodle absentmindedly. “Ugh, I can’t remember where, it’s going to bother me all day.”

“Well, if you tell me, I’d love to know. My mom’s diary is full of symbols and, honestly, mysterious things I don’t understand.”

Charlie’s eyes light up in interest. “That’s awesome.”

Dean can’t help but snort. For a second there he feels like he’s won the lottery with this girl. If he can get her to like him, to hang out with him, it would be a dream come true. She’s the right type of wonderfully weird and kind that he was looking for in a friend. “Sure, if you like that sort of stuff. It’s been driving me crazy though, I’m dying to solve some of these mysteries.”

“It’s the Campbell way,” she jokes, moving her eyebrows up and down quickly before giggling. “There are a lot of rumours and legends around your family, did you know that? It’s pretty spooky and cool. Bring the journal tomorrow, I’ll see if I can help you figure some things out.”

“Deal,” he grins. A spark of joy ignites in his chest.

“Gotta go now. Thanks for lunch, Dean. See you later.”

Charlie stuffs her face with potatoes in a haste before jumping down the bleachers and waving goodbye. Dean stares after her with a truly happy smile on his face, heart swelling with newfound hope. He has a good feeling about her. Perhaps he was too quick to despair, he is really looking forward to Charlie proving him wrong about his latest plan of being a loner all the way to college. If he even gets into one.

The next day, much to his pleasure, he learns he’s absolutely right about her. The two of them have a blast together. Dean drives them to her place right after school and they play video games for the most part. Dean’s rarely ever played video games because of course they could never afford them, except for the arcade games, and Dean was never in the same place for too long so if he ever made a friend who did have a console of some sort, it didn’t last long, so Charlie absolutely kicks his ass in Mario Kart over and over again but he has a ton of fun anyway. Sitting on the floor of her bedroom next to her, arm in arm, he feels like he’s known her forever and just for a little while he doesn't feel so alone anymore. They just sort of…  _ click _ together. While they play, eyes always glued to the screen, Charlie is happy to share with him the abundant crazy tales of their town when he asks. She tells him about the several ghost sightings that have been reported throughout decades; about Castiel's haunted house and how he never bothers disproving the rumours (not even with his own friends), he’s always very vague and mysterious and just lets people arrive to whatever conclusion they want; she talks about the supposed peace treaty the Campbells made with the Novaks who were believed to be very powerful witches. Many didn’t approve of them, even if the Campbells accepted them into the community, and to this date the priests give them nasty looks, like they don’t trust or approve of them.

“Cas always jokes that if he goes to church he’ll burst into flames anyway.”

“And he doesn’t care what people say about his family?”

Charlie shrugs. “He used to. He got bullied a ton, not just over that but because a lot of people still think his dad or his uncle had something to do with his mom’s disappearance, but a few years ago Dick and his dick squad just stopped messing with him.” Suddenly she snorts and he can see her shaking her head from side to side out of the corner of his eye. “He had a series of unfortunate events, as I like to call it, and, I don’t know, he went nuts and blamed Castiel for everything and stopped messing with him altogether. Worked out for Cas, I guess. It’s a long running legend, though, that if you cross a Novak bad things happen to you. Good thing I’m his bestie.”

“Do you... believe… the legends?”

Dean sees her consider her answer for a moment before she simply shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ll believe it when I see it but who am I to go against hundreds of years of rumours, am I right? Maybe it’s just karma.”

That’s a fair perspective, Dean supposes. A few days ago he would have laughed at the whole concept of witches and ghosts and the supernatural, he was never one to believe in a higher power but now he’s not so sure. Does he think Castiel is a witch? Probably not. Is his house haunted? Hell yes, he is absolutely sure of that.

Although…

Dean loses his focus and his go-kart falls off the map, giving Charlie a comfortable winning advantage at this point. He has more important things to think about for a moment, like how his luck turned sour the moment he arrived, the moment he pissed off Castiel. The strange nightmares, the weird clumsy accidents—and Cas was always around for those. The way the dreams stopped when Dean did that silly spell with the Seal of Sabnack. What if it wasn’t positive thinking? What if he  _ truly _ channelled some sort of magic force into the protective seal? What if Castiel  _ is _ a witch?

_ No, that’s ridiculous… _

He laughs internally but deep down in his mind the seed of doubt has been planted.

“I gotta admit, though,” Charlie adds, bringing Dean back from his thoughts, “if Cas is a witch I’ll be  _ very  _ surprised. Does he act weird sometimes? For sure but he’s a sweet guy, I can’t imagine him going around cursing people. Also, I’d punch him for not telling me, he knows how much I love Harry Potter.”

At that Dean can’t help but chuckle. Afterwards her mom, Gertrude, calls them for dinner. She’s a lovely woman, warm and welcoming, she makes him feel at home, as if he’d been friends with Charlie forever. Over dinner, Gertrude tells him all sorts of funny stories about his parents from their shared days back at school, sometimes laughing so hard they can barely understand what she’s saying but can’t help but laugh along anyway. It’s refreshing to have someone talk about his mother who can smile at the same time, to be able to speak about her in a happy context, no tears, no grief. 

Dean has one of the best times of his life as the Bradbury’s. Finally, after looking for so long, he felt like he belonged there, like he could plant a seed of friendship that would easily grow and blossom into something beautiful with no thorns or expiration date. Charlie was witty, the good kind of weird and non-judgemental, and while she was also Castiel’s friend, his opinion of Dean doesn’t seem to have poisoned her mind about him. That made him like her even more because it showed she had a mind of her own.

He’s in a high, no doubt, but Wednesday makes sure to put Dean back in his place. It’s all because of Bela really, and Dean can’t honestly be surprised that she got him in trouble; he always had a feeling that she would, she’s that kind of person. In between classes she finds him at his locker while he’s picking up books for his next class. She walks confidently towards him, almost parading like a model, loving the way people turn to look at her as she moves past them. Dean sees her coming from the corner of his eye and all but sighs.

“Dean,” she starts, leaning casually (but totally on purpose) against the lockets in a way she knows she knows makes her look good, “are you free today?”

She lets out this little but still meaning laugh at the end that tells him she knows he doesn’t because it’s common knowledge that he has no friends, which yes, it’s true, but  _ rude _ . Needless to say, it pisses him off right off the bat. The tactless, second-nature way with which she’s insulting from time to time really drives him up the wall.

“You know, just because I don’t have friends doesn’t mean I’m available whenever you want.”

As if he’d slapped her across the face, she stares back at him, speechless. Dean realizes then that she’s most likely not used to having truth-bombs dropped on her or have someone stand up for themselves when she’s being malicious. He let it go before after all, tried to be patient with her, but not anymore, not now that he got a taste of what a truly healthy friendship should be like, that it can happen right from the start. He can’t change Bela and should never have tried to.

She opens and closes her mouth. Dean can’t help but enjoy seeing her like that, caught off guard, bewildered.

When Bela finally finds her words, she proposes, “okay, how about tomorrow?”

“Nah, I’ll think I pass.”

“You  _ pass _ ?” she repeats, now obviously annoyed as she catches up to his intentions.

“Yes, I’ll pass. You see, I think you thought I would do whatever you wanted because I don’t have friends. For a moment there, I thought so too, but honestly, Bela? After getting to you know, I’d rather have no friends at all.”

Her jaw drops, a scandalized frown adorning her otherwise pretty face. People around them are doing a poor job at pretending they’re not absolutely listening to their conversation. They’re not even trying to act like they’re still looking for things inside their lockers.

“ _ Excuse me? _ ”

Fearlessly, Dean says, “you talk trash behind your own friends’ backs, I can’t imagine what you say about  _ me _ . You see the use people have for you, not their value, and I’m so not here for that kind of high school bullshit. We’re done, sweetheart.”

Bela pushes herself off the wall and scoffs, folding her arms over her chest. “What are you going to do, Dean, spend the weekends with your little brother like a loser?”

He just rolls her eyes at her and closes his locker. Dean’s ready to end this conversation. “Yes, Bela, I’m going to spend the weekend with my family because I actually like them, which is more than you can say. And you know what? I think deep down that must make you really jealous.”

“Hey, watch your tone with her,” a familiar voice warns him.

Dean turns around to face Dick, putting every effort into not snapping back at him. He promised his dad, after all, he said he would make a real effort this time. No getting into trouble, no fights.  _ It’s not worth it, _ he tells himself. His dad is making an even bigger effort to quit drinking and get his shit together, Dean can get this one thing done, he can be the bigger man and not punch an asshole in the face.

“I’m just being honest,” Dean replies, tone as neutral as possible. He even lifts his hands up as a sign of peace. “She’s all yours.”

The moment Dean turns to leave, Dick pushes him from behind. Dean trips and falls hard on his hands and knees, his book flying off his hands down the hallway. In hindsight it was a mistake to turn his back on his enemy but then again he wouldn’t have taken Dick for a coward who pushes people when they have their backs to him. He thought wrong.

As Dick and his friends laugh at him like a mindless unicellular life form, Dean takes a deep breath to channel all his willpower into _not_ reacting. _Let it go, be the bigger man, nothing will bother Dick as much as that._ _Don’t give him the pleasure of throwing a punch,_ he thinks over and over again until he’s convinced. 

Slowly, like the deer who doesn’t want to catch the lion’s attention, he gets up and starts walking towards his book, ignoring the faces’ of the students around them. Some are curious, others give Dean a look of somewhat pity, while a few students seem impressed by the fact that he hasn’t thrown a punch at Dick yet even though he definitely looks like he could—and he knows he  _ totally _ can. As much as it pains him, he’s really willing to let it go and walk away, just get to class and mind his own business, but Dick isn’t feeling as generous that day.

Luckily Dean hears him coming even if he doesn't see him and gets out of the way just before Dick can lay his hands on him again.

As he turns to face him, Dean shows no fear but also not desire to fight either. “Leave me alone, Roman.”

Quickly his eyes dart to the side, towards Bela, to gauge her reaction. She’s nowhere near helping him, she merely shakes his head at him, like it’s his fault for landing himself in this situation, and she walks away for the scene as if she weren’t involved at all.

“Or what?” Roman snarls.

“Or nothing, I don’t want to fight you.”

The other boy, far from dropping the subject, sneers in a challenging way. “Are you afraid, Winchester?”

“No, I know I could beat you to a pulp but you’re just not worth getting in trouble for.”

The moment the words come out of his mouth, he regrets them; being sassy was, for sure, not going to ease Roman’s thirst for fighting. He throws a punch almost right away but Dean gets out of his way rather gracefully. Light on his feet, he takes a few steps back away from him, holding his hands up just to protect himself if he has to but not really meaning to strike back. He can’t believe he’s actually being the one trying to be peaceful for a change, but then again this is exactly what he came to this town for, for a clean start, better life choices.

Dick tries to hit him again but once more Dean moves out of the way. He’s not counting on Roman’s friends though; the cowards grab Dean from behind and hold him steady as Dick throws two quick blows, one to his face and the other to his stomach. It’s not at all the worst beating he’s received, but the blow to his stomach leaves him breathless for a moment, kneeling on the ground for hair as his lip starts to bleed.

“Leave him alone, assholes!” Charlie shouts as she breaks through the crow and tries to push Roman’s friends away; it’s like watching a feather try to hit a wall.

Dean’s sure Dick’s not done. For a moment he’s just worried about Charlie’s proximity and he makes a decision not to try to move if Roman comes at him again to avoid her receiving any blow by accident, but then Castiel’s following suit, marching towards their common enemy with a resolution and confidence that doesn’t seem fitting to him judging by the  _ everything _ about Cas that screams that he does not know how to fight. He gets right in Dick’s face though, like he could defeat him with the power of his mind alone, and Dean be damned but Dick actually takes a step back.

“Walk away, Roman, or I tell everyone the kinds of dreams you had about me,” Castiel whispers under his breath, low enough that only the other can hear him.

The blood drains from Dick’s face. “How—how do you know about that?” he whispers, horrified that Castiel knows his dirty little secret…

How could Castiel  _ not _ know? He was the one who cursed Dick with homoerotic dreams featuring the two of them just to fuck with him, to get him to feel too uncomfortable to so much as look in his direction, let alone bully him. It worked like a charm, it was part of the  _ series of unfortunate events _ he went through, but this one little thing only Cas knows about.

Castiel smirks, drowning in the power that comes from causing Dick’s humiliation. “I’m a witch, haven’t you heard?” Cas teases. If Gabriel was there he’d murder his little brother for saying the family secret out loud but Cas is pretty sure that even if Dick told anyone, they wouldn’t believe him, they’d just think he’s superstitious, maybe too much of a fanatic christian.

Dick sets his jaw and pushes past him, avoiding meeting his eyes like the plague. Castiel can’t help but smile to himself, loving every minute Dick’s uncomfortable because of him.

“Whatever, class is about to start. Let’s go,” he orders his squad of followers through gritted teeth. His friends, puzzled by his sudden change of heart, take a second to catch up with him but eventually back away as well.

The threat now eliminated, Cas turns to focus on Charlie who is kneeling next to Dean, examining the cut on his lip. It’s not a serious injury, he probably cut his lip on his teeth when Dick hit him, but as fat drops of blood fall down his chin Castiel sees the golden opportunity he had been waiting for. With some simple short whispered words, he conjures a handkerchief which he takes out of his pocket as he kneels next to Dean.

“Here, let me see.”

Dean shoots him a quick look of surprise, a little skeptical of his kindness even, but he doesn't move away when Castiel starts cleaning the blood, one hand on Dean’s chin to hold him still. He’s so engrossed on what he’s doing, a thrill of accomplishment  _ and _ naughtiness running down his spine as he shamelessly steals Dean’s blood, that he doesn’t notice how intimate the moment is, how close they are. Dean’s green eyes are locked on him the entire time. When Cas finally blinks and looks up to meet his gaze, he’s so caught up in those sparkly eyes that are studying him that he just loses his focus for a moment. Dean’s beauty is so much more devastatingly impressive from up close, his sun-kissed skin smooth and perfect, dozens of tiny little freckles adorning his nose and cheeks. Everything about his face is flawless; the shape of his nose, his cheekbones, jaw, his lips—yes, even with the cut. Something stirs inside of him when he looks down at his lips and then back up at those pretty eyes that pay so much attention to him, something powerful and unfamiliar but not uncomfortable by any means. It’s something that feels right,  _ exciting _ .

Suddenly Castiel withdraws his hands at once and blushes. Dean obviously sees that, the corners of his lips trying but failing to contain a knowing grin which only makes Cas blush ever further.

“You have green eyes,” Castiel says rather stupidly in an attempt to fill the silence.

Charlie, at his left, giggles and shakes her head. They both turn to look at her like they’d forgotten she was still there.

“Well, thank you for, huh—you know,” Dean tells him as he stands up, massaging his stomach with one hand.

“Why didn’t you fight back?” Charlie asks as she helps him up.

“As much as I would have loved to, I promised my dad I’d stay out of trouble,” Dean sighs, proud of himself for sticking to his promise but unbelievably frustrated that he didn’t get to punch Dick on the face once in his lifetime. Maybe in the next one.

“That’s very noble of you,” Cas offers, surprising even himself for being kind to Dean. He’s not supposed to, it doesn’t seem like a good idea to blur the lines between them into something that’s similar to friendly.

“Yeah, well, it sucks… Anyway, we should go to class. I’ll see you around.”

“Bye, Dean!” Charlie cheerful shouts after him, then turns towards Castiel with a shit eating grin on her face and a gleam of triumph in her eyes. “I saw that.”

“Saw what?”

She clicks her tongue and rolls her eyes, hooking one arm around his as she starts to drag him away. “Oh, come on. You  _ blushed _ . You  _ blushed, _ Cas.”

“I most certainly did not,” Cas argues although he certainly did too and he knows it but he’ll be damned if he admits to it.

He can’t help but have Dean in his mind much more often though, as much as he tries not to. Now that he has his blood, Cas decides to break all the previous hexes he cursed Dean and his family with. Castiel doesn’t want to hex them to the point where he could cause them real harm, like triggering a relapse on John Winchester, and he already feels responsible for the altercation between Dean and Dick. Castiel thinks he fuelled that by making Dean an outcast and therefore a good target for Dick. For better or for worse, it seems the Winchesters are back to stay. The best he can hope for is that they don’t cause any trouble.

Right after school, Cas heads to the library. He tries not to run down to the basement where the bunker is but he’s so excited he almost runs into a few people on the way. Once he’s in front of the door, he takes the handkerchief out of his pocket and a bottle of water from his backpack. He damps the handkerchief and with magic he gets the blood to concentrate and separate from the fabric, floating in one small drop, red and delicate, that levitates just a few inches from Castiel’s hand. Delicately he guides the blood towards the hole where he put his hand in the last time he was there, so focused on what he’s doing that he’s holding his breath without realizing it. He does his best to imagine the path the blood needs to follow, to get it to the needle that will recognize it as that of a Campbells and  _ finally _ open the goddamn door to the bunker so he can  _ finally _ search it.

But when he gets the blood to where it needs to be there’s a moment of silence before he feels the mechanisms of the door attacking the empty space where his arm was the last time. He jumps back out of impulse, even though this time he’s out of harm’s way.

“No!” he shouts angrily, banging his fists against the door. “It’s the right blood, you stupid thing! Open up!”

In a fit of anger he foolishly punches the wall, screams in pain and kneels down on the floor, holding his newly injured hand with the good one. 

He’s got to give it to the Men of Letters though, they casted a  _ very _ powerful spell. Castiel’s best guess is that it can differentiate between blood given willingly or taken by force, or perhaps the blood needs to be fresh, which is very clever but also extremely inconvenient for him. He wishes he could just burn the thing down and make it explode or something; he’s strong enough to manage it with the right dark spell, but the peace treaty would probably find that as a violation of their agreement and bite him back in the ass.

Huffing and puffing under his breath he leaves the library, not before accidentally running into a man and knocking the books right out of his hand.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes quickly while he picks up the books. When he raises his gaze and discovers it’s his grandfather, who has ignored him his entire life due to some old resentments against his father and Gabriel, Cas trails off and stiffens. The old man has always looked at Castiel like he blamed him for Clarice’s loss too. Cas, a walking and talking proof of the love between his daughter and Charles, the guy he blames to this day for his daughter’s disappearance. Oliver has always hated him by association.

Oliver takes the books from his hands as they both cautiously study each other, both waiting for the other to start yelling or something. None says a word, so eventually Cas turns to leave, grateful to avoid making a scene.

“I saw Dean!” Oliver comments quickly, voice too loud for the quiet library. He seems to realize that and be mortified by his outburst. His cheeks turn red like they have never before when dealing with Cas. Softly, he adds, “nice boy, that one.”

Cas stops dead on his tracks, not really turning around to face his grandfather. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to make of that. What does he care what his grandfather does, who he spends time with? Is he supposed to take offence that he prefers that stranger rather than his own blood? Does Oliver mean to hurt him with that information, to make him jealous?

“Well, I hope you had a wonderful time,” Castiel retorts coldly without even bothering to face him and starts to leave again but once more his grandfather’s talking to him.

“He said—he said—”

Curiosity getting the best of him, Castiel turns around to find the other man nervously picking and choosing his words.

“I have a lot of photos. Of your mom. And his too, they were best friends, you see. Like sisters.”

“I know.”

“Anyway, Dean saw them and he said you may like to see them too.”

Castiel blinks a few times, utterly confused. Why would Dean say that? He’s not necessarily wrong, even though he gave up on trying to have a relationship with his grandfather years ago when it was clear that he had not only no interest but a clear determination to stay away from the Novaks, but—

“Would you like to come over sometime…? And… I can show you. The photos, I mean. If you’d like…”

Before he even knows what he’s saying, true to his heart’s most secret desires, Cas blurts out a faint, “okay.”

He feels betrayed by his own tongue. Whenever he imagined his grandfather realizing he was a jerk that was losing on an opportunity to have a grandson, Cas always thought Oliver would come back to ask for forgiveness with his tail between his legs and Castiel would then have the option to get back at him, turn him away like his grandfather did with him. But now that the moment’s actually arrived, he gives into what he  _ really _ wants; not revenge but a family. 

“But why?” he asks warily. Now he can admit he cares, he also can admit it  _ hurt _ to be pushed aside. Can he really blame the old man for suspecting his son in law who vanished into thin air from one day to the other in the eyes of the mortals, who apparently abandoned his own son? Probably not, but it was always unfair and wrong to do the same to Cas just based in mere blood association. “You never wanted to have anything to do with me.”

His grandfather licks his lips nervously, taking a tentative step towards Cas, a subtle attempt to decrease the distance between them. They’ve always been worlds apart.

“There are a lot of things I don’t understand… about your father,” he adds cautiously towards the end. Castiel inhales sharply, bracing himself like he has so many times before when someone’s about to insult his family, sharing their unwanted opinions on things they really don’t know anything about. “But maybe it’s best to try to move past them… to stop thinking about him when I think of you.”

“That would be wise,” Castiel agrees, tone still a little cold and defensive.

“Look, I’ve made mistakes. I'm a proud man, it takes me a lot to admit it, but when that boy pointed them out to me, I just felt like a fool. I felt childish.”

“You mean  _ Dean _ ?”

His grandfather nods. “At the end of the day, I can be as mad as I want but… it’s lonely. And when he left, I just wanted him to return and not think of me as an old grump. He was like a grandson to me, when he was little. But you  _ are _ my grandson and you are here, so, if it’s not too late, I’d really like to get to know you better. If you want...”

For a moment Cas is too stunned to say something. He feels like a little boy again, when he wanted nothing but to have his grandfather want him. He’d thought that after so long those desires had melted away but no, they’re still there where he left them, hidden in a dark corner of his soul. He still seeks acceptance… which makes him feel weak and a little pathetic, but he’s not stubborn enough to turn away what little family he’s got left when they’re trying to make things right. 

Anyway, his grandmother would have his head if he was mean to his grandfather.

“Okay… I guess we can try.”

Oliver smiles. Judging by the expression on his face he hadn’t really expected Cas to take him up on the offer. “Okay. How about, hmm, dinner on Saturday?”

“Sure…”

Their goodbye is very awkward but it seems fitting of them since neither is the poster boy for optimal social skills; maybe they’ll have more in common than Cas gave them credit for. His grandmother does usually say he’s got her husband’s stubbornness after all... It’s no wonder it took them this long to get over their stupid feud.

When he gets home, he’s in a weird mood. Pensive, lost in his thoughts. He tells Gabriel everything that happened that day. If Gabe is pissed that he couldn’t open the door or that Cas didn’t tell him before trying, he keeps it to himself. Instead he seems a little concerned about his little brother and how quiet he is.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, you know? You don’t owe him anything,” Gabriel tells him when Cas finishes the story of how he ran into his grandfather.

“I know… But I want to.”

Gabe opens his mouth to say something but then closes it right away. He frowns to himself and avoids meeting his eyes. Castiel can clearly read his thoughts in the lines in his forehead; he doesn’t think it’s a good idea to visit his grandfather, he doesn’t like the guy. And well, Cas can’t really blame him after Oliver left Gabriel completely alone to care for a little Castiel once his grandmother died and was very vocal about how he thought Charles had something to do with his daughter’s disappearance. He even hinted that Gabriel was somehow also involved, that he had to know more than he was saying (which, in Oliver’s defence, was true). Cas can’t remember much of those days but he knows it was hard for Gabe, juggling being a single parent to his brother, the police all but harassing him to find out more about his family and the entire town’s eyes on him as they tried to find a scapegoat to blame for the murders. Some protective magic and a really good lawyer kept trouble away but Gabriel never forgot, let alone forgive, how he was treated.  _ But _ there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for Castiel so he bites his tongue and keeps his personal opinions to himself.

Feeling melancholic, Cas spends the evening in his room in front of the magic mirror like he used to when he was a kid. He doesn't usually indulge in it for long, he’s learned it’s not healthy to dwell in the past but once he starts he can’t stop.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, show me a memory of love.”

The mirror, reading into his mood, his mind, shows him something rare: nothing but memories of Dean.

Dean snuggling against Castiel’s side while they nap in a cold winter’s afternoon.

Dean sharing half the cookie he stole from the kitchen with Cas.

Dean watching with amazement, never fear, while Castiel used his magic to hold a butterfly in mid air, the little thing flapping its wings but getting nowhere while the boys admire it.

Dean letting him have the biggest portion of cake at his birthday party.

Dean and Cas running down the stairs in secret that night to steal more cake and eating so much they get sick.

Dean and Cas running, holding hands, playing, laughing, sweet and innocent. Two boys who wanted nothing but each other, candies and a turn in the swing. A love so pure Castiel can’t understand how he forgot about it so easily, a love so strong that it brought Dean back with the hope that there would be something left of it still, even after all those years they spent apart. Dean never stopped seeing him as a friend… the only real friend he ever had, as he said, while Castiel foolishly made an enemy of him.

It can’t end well between them though. Castiel wants to open the gate to hell and the only thing standing in the way is Dean, not only because he still needs his blood to open the bunker but because Dean comes from a family of hunters who will, most likely, not want the door to be opened again, especially if he finds out why his mother closed it. They should stay enemies (not that Dean ever saw him as one though, it was always a rather one-sided rivalry) but Cas can’t help but sympathize with him, to feel bad for making him an outcast, a loner, to make him suffer and humiliate him in front of people. Truth be told, Dean doesn’t seem half bad; he’s benevolent, loyal, honest and brave. There’s good in him, he’s definitely not this unquestionably terrible person Cas wanted him to be which only serves to make him feel even worse that in some degree it felt good to do what he did, using his magic made him feel strong and having power over someone’s life was addictive.

Another thing to consider is that Dean might find out what the Novaks really are eventually, and then what? If he spoke to Oliver, if he saw the family pictures, it’s almost impossible he didn’t realize he saw the ghost of Castiel’s grandmother. What if he starts connecting the dots, what if he realizes Cas cursed him... more than once? If Dean has an innate hunter instinct inside him, it’s only a matter of time until he finds  _ something _ . Maybe he doesn’t and nothing ever happens, maybe he just thinks he saw a ghost and calls it a day, but there’s also the possibility that he finds the bunker and all the information—the  _ evidence _ — about the supernatural and Castiel's family history. What then? What if he decides they’re evil? Certainly one young hunter is no match for Gabriel or Castiel but it would be a terrible inconvenience nonetheless. The bottom line is there may come a time when Dean knows the truth and hates them for it, so what’s the point of trying to be friends in the first place? It’s not in a hunter’s nature to become friends with witches, even Mary Winchester initially opposed the union of Charles and Clarice…

But then again she did love Cas like he was her own son and Dean didn’t mind his magic at all when he was a child. In fact, he thought Castiel was amazing for all the things he could do. Maybe time and distance may have cured Dean of his tolerance or maybe he was just the same sweet boy inside, even after all those years. For some reason Cas would like to believe the latter.

Out of the blue, an apparition bangs its hands against the mirror as if it were trying to get out. The faceless, hooded spirit is gone as soon as it came, leaving Cas panting hard and shocked, frightened like he hasn’t been in a long time. It takes him a minute to gather himself and for his heartbeat to come down to a non-life-threatening speed. Fearing that he’s being watched somehow or that something else may make an unwelcome appearance, he grabs a dirty shirt from the ground and throws it over the mirror.

A bit alarmed, he wonders if the presence he was sensing in the park managed to follow him home. Their land is like a magnet for the supernatural  _ but _ the house is heavily guarded by very old and very powerful spells which is probably why the spirit couldn't do more than give him quite the fright. As he realizes this, he relaxes and just says the conjuration of compassion once, to play it safe, then stays away from the mirror for the rest of the day. He can’t help but feel it’s a bad omen though; strange things are happening, coincidentally after Dean arrived, which is exactly what Cas feared. Whether Dean is a nice person or not, his presence still makes the young witch uneasy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Butterfly gif: kyoka-sui-get-su (tumblr)  
> First Dean gif: seeded-apple (think it's been deactivated)
> 
> Like what you're reading? Have any constructive criticism? Well then leave a comment my friend ;)


	11. Chapter 11

“Heya, Sammy, wanna go to the library with me after lunch?”

“What library?”

“The  _ public _ library.”

Sam lifts an eyebrow, smirking like an asshole. Dean knows what he’s going to say before he says it. 

“ _ You _ in a library? That I’ve got to see.”

“Hey, I read!”

John chuckles, watching over his shoulders as his kids bicker halfheartedly while he washes some dishes and the boys eat. Dean kicks Sam under the table but not hard, just to tease him back.

It’s a great day for the Winchesters. It’s sunny, the weather’s nice and they all have plans for later, even Dean. John looks good, better than Dean’s ever seen him; he’s clean shaven, smiling lazily but constantly and dressed in freshly clean clothes. Sadly, that’s not what Dean’s used to for the most part, for years John was more of a grump, with a perpetual frown on his face, drunk or hungover more often than not and he did not really care about his appearance. He sometimes smelled, wouldn’t shower for days, his clothes would be dirty and old. Dean used to be so ashamed of him, he didn’t want his classmates to see his father. Now, his clothes are still second-hand as they slowly work towards a better financial situation but they’re no longer torn or dirty and he’s more conscious about having  _ some _ sort of style. His dad looks younger like this and a little bit more like the handsome guy Dean’s mother fell for. More importantly, he really does look happier which fills Dean’s heart with joy and hope. There are no visible cracks in him, no odd behaviour, no telltale warning sign that he’s heading towards a relapse. And  _ boy  _ does Dean keep an eye out for those…

Sam, the most adaptable and less damaged of them all, blessed with a brother that tried to protect him as much as possible from what was going on in their lives, seems to have practically fully adapted by the end of their first month there. He’s doing well in school, gets along just fine with his schoolmates and has already made two friends that have Dean’s seal of approval.

Now, it’s Dean’s time to shine: he has plans with Charlie that night. Sam’s going to Barry’s and John’s got a dinner planned with people from work which includes Charlie’s mom, so Dean’s going over to her place to play more video games and this time probably go through his mom’s journal. It’s definitely been more present in his mind, given all the things he’s heard about Cas and the fact that he definitely saw a ghost at his place. The likelihood of the Novaks not knowing there’s a ghost there is little to none so at least  _ some _ of the rumours about them are true. That house is haunted with at least one ghost. Now it doesn’t seem so crazy to him to think that he may have also seen a ghost sitting in the swing outside in the garden. Dean just wants to know what else is true and how some of the town’s rumours and legends relate to what his mother wrote in her diary. Did she believe the Novaks were witches and was that why she didn’t like Charles for her best friend? What if she was a witch too and what’s what she meant by  _ the life _ ? The witch life, the supernatural life,  _ what _ ? He did find a spell in her diary after all, one that seems to have worked…

That’s why he hits the library, to try and find something else about this whole matter of witches and magic and ghosts and whatnot. He doesn’t want to rely on rumours for information and finding books on occultism online isn’t that easy, not to mention he doesn’t have the money to buy the ones that are, so his best option is the one and only public library in town. Sam gets really excited when Dean tells him their ancestors built the library and truth be told Dean looks at it with new eyes as well when they go in, taking in its details, feeling oddly proud of what his family was able to accomplish. Oh, how the mighty have fallen though, his family is not by any means the powerful, influential or accomplished bunch they used to be.They’re not leaders, mayors, lawyers, doctors or architects anymore. Well, at least Dean isn’t, Sam still has a chance to be something amazing someday. If his little brother could read his thoughts, he’d probably tell the same to Dean.

Knowing his nerdy little brother is going to want to go through most if not all the aisles in the library and scan all the different categories, Dean takes his time with his own search. There are not a lot of sections that interest him, he’s mostly looking for fiction books for his own amusement and then anything he can get his hands on that relates to the history of the town and his family, and anything to do with the supernatural. He checks the fiction section first as he already knows where it is. He spends some time there trying to pick books; there are a few that interest him and he doesn’t know which one he should take out first. In the end he picks a book of short ghost stories to pass the time at school. He’ll leave the supernatural stuff at home, he doesn’t want people to associate him with that sort of thing, people already think he’s weird enough.

Afterwards he walks around until he finds the history section but it’s not at all what he’s looking for, there’s hardly any book that covers the town’s history. Disappointed he looks around, but there’s not much else. There are  _ some _ books on religion and spiritualism here and there, but the section is far too small compared to others so Dean has the feeling something’s missing. He finds his way to the counter where a young librarian has her nose buried behind a book and thick glasses. She notices him coming though and looks up with a bright smile.

“Hello there. Anything I can help you with?”

“Hmm, yeah. I am looking for something.”

“A book? Do you know the name or author?”

“Not a specific book, really, more like a section. I couldn't help but notice the religion section is awfully small?”

She makes a funny face like she has no idea what he means.

“Well, all the books are there. Between you and me, it’s not a very popular section.”

“So there are no more books? About, I don’t know, ghosts or… you know, weird stuff?”

Not sure what he means, she frowns. “Weird stuff?”

“Yeah, you know. Like the supernatural. Witches, the occult, ghosts.”

“Did you try the fiction section?”

“What? No, I—”

Dean takes a deep breath and presses his lips together into a thin line. He doesn’t understand if she’s pulling his leg and being dense on purpose or if he’s really being that unclear.

“I mean  _ real _ books, not fiction, about the supernatural.”

“Well…” The librarian pouts and racks her brain for a second. “I think you can find that in the basement…”

Dean stares back in disbelief; isn’t she supposed to know the library inside out? That’s literally her job. How can she forget about an entire section of books?

The librarian brings a hand to her temple and massages the spot there as she sits down on her stool again. “Oh, wow, I got a really strong throbbing pain all of a sudden… weird…”

The lady frowns and distractedly stares away into nothingness while Dean waits awkwardly on the other side of the counter. She’s either socially awkward or on something. When he clears his throat to catch her attention, she looks up like she’s forgotten he was still standing there.

“So the basement?”

“What about it?’

Resisting the urge to snap at her, he asks with barely contained impatience, “where is it?”

“Over there,” she says and points to a dark stairway leading down into the basement. The light is not on and the place does not look like it’s supposed to be open to the public, which is why he didn’t notice it in the first place. He wonders if she forgot to turn on the light because it’s pitch black and easily missed. As an afterthought, speaking more to herself than him like she’s just realized this, she mutters, “nobody ever goes down there though.”

“Why not?”

A shiver runs down her spine and she shakes the feeling off. “It’s just creepy down there.”

“Yeah, well, the lights are off.”

“The switch’s right there, just don’t forget to turn off the light when you come up.”

Dean lifts an eyebrow; shouldn’t he leave the light  _ on _ so other people can find the section? But he decides he doesn't have the patience to argue with her, so he just thanks her and walks away. At the top of the stairs there is a light-switch, just like the librarian said there would be. When Dean is about to turn the lights on, he’s surprised to notice a little symbol at the bottom of the switch, none other than the mysterious unicursal hexagram his mother drew on her diary. Curious, he slides a finger over the engraved mark and turns the light on, getting a good feeling about this hidden section of the library.

As soon as he gets to the bottom of the stairs, he perfectly understands where the librarian was coming from. This section of the library is very different from the rest; it’s dark, deadly silent, it smells kind of weird and it’s organized differently. There are no aisles but rather a strange maze-like combination of bookshelves that doesn’t seem to follow any specific order and it’s almost like it’s done on purpose because it makes no sense to have the rest of the library ordered perfectly respectably and then have  _ this _ level of randomness downstairs. It is indeed exactly what he was looking for though, almost as if it was made for him. Since the first moment he starts browsing through the titles, he finds books that interest him. 

There’s an incredible collection in all sorts of supernatural topics, from religious books to lore on different creatures and occultism. Dean spends a long time there scanning titles and indexes, taking some books out and then deciding to put them back on the shelf because eventually the pile of books he wants to take home is just too big so he starts prioritizing them. He’s fascinated by the things he finds, not just books but so many incredible illustrations, like that of witches' sabbath. He gets a little lost reading some bits here and there, engrossed in the strange topics the books covered, and he loses track of time. 

Eventually, when he gets to the furthest corner of the room, he sees a metal door and right above it, engraved in the stone wall, there it is again, that hexagram symbol.

“Jackpot,” he smiles victorious as he advances towards the door, not stopping to think for a single moment if that place is off limits or not. If it is, he doubts the librarian will come looking for him.

But before he can reach the door, when his hand is already stretched towards it and only a few feet away from the handle, his little brother’s voice calls him from the stairs.

“Dean? Are you down here?”

Dean closes his hands around thin air and looks back over his shoulder. From where he’s standing Sam’s not going to be able to see him. He looks back at the door once more and sighs before hurrying towards the stairs.

“I’m here, Sam!” he calls back, then hears his brother’s footsteps hurrying down.

Sam’s face pops from behind a big bookshelf and he eyes Dean curiously while his eyes skim over the books in this section.

“I thought you’d left without me.”

“I would never,” Dean teases him, elbowing his brother in the ribs.

“What are you doing here?” Sam asks as he leans in closer to see the books his brother’s holding against his side. “The book of black magic. The Goetia: The lesser Key of Solomon the King. The Encyclopedia of Magic and Alchemy. Dean, what are you doing?”

Undoubtedly, Sammy is but a little concerned about his brother’s sanity. Dean snorts and puts his free arm around Sam’s shoulders, leading him up the stairs. He’ll revisit this mysterious door later.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to summon any demons, Sam. I’m just curious, I’ve been hearing a lot of rumours about ghosts and shit like that around town, that’s all.”

“And what, you believe them?”

Dean is quiet for a moment as they walk towards the librarian. Should he tell his little brother he saw a ghost or would Sam think he’s crazy? Stopping midway to the librarian’s desk, he lowers his voice to say, “if I tell you I saw one would you believe me?”

To Dean’s surprise and relief, Sam’s more curious than judgemental. “Whose?”

“Castiel’s grandmother, at his place.”

In a brief pause Samy studies his brother, gauging whether he’s being honest or just pulling his leg. Something in the expression of Dean’s face must tell Sam his brother’s telling the truth because then he asks, “how sure are you?”

“100%.”

Sam seems to debate with himself whether he fears for Dean’s mental health or if he’ll open his logical mind to the supernatural. He continues to study him, looking out for any signs that Dean’s losing it. In the end he seems to decide Dean’s not nuts.

“Did you talk to her?”

“Yes. It was very weird. I didn’t realize she was a ghost until days later though.”

“So Castiel is living with a ghost? Huh…”

Sam chews his bottom lip, lost in thought for a second.

When they reach the librarian, the brothers both register for a library card and take their books out, except Dean has to leave his ghost stories book because he can only take three books at a time. As they walk out together, Dean notices Sam’s still quiet and pensive.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, it’s just—makes you wonder.”

“What exactly?”

Sam opens the door of the library and Dean follows him out. From the distance he can see a crow sitting on top of the Impala, looking in their direction with an intensity that feels strange for an animal, even if crows are a really smart type of animal. It’s like it was waiting for them. The bird looks very much like the one that almost ran into him the first time he visited the library. As soon as it sees the brothers coming through the door it spreads its wings and takes flight.

If Dean didn’t know better, he’d say the bird was watching him,  _ following _ him.

“What else might be true,” Sam, who did not notice the bird, replies. “I’ve heard a lot of weird things too.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not sure I believe  _ everything _ but I know what I saw. And I don’t think it’s cool the entire town goes around bad-mouthing the Novaks.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean about them. I meant about  _ us _ . Well, our family,” Sam explains as they get into the car.

Once inside, Dean turns on his seat. “What do you mean?”

“Eileen—she’s related to the pastor, you know? He’s her uncle. So, she grew up going to church a lot, she knows all the ins and outs of that place. She told me she saw some old papers in her uncle’s office once, from the early 50s, it was some kind of diary an old pastor kept. It mentioned something called the Men of Letters and how they helped with an exorcism. And get this; a Campbell was their leader. So apparently they were part of some secret society that helped the pastor deal with the supernatural. Weird, huh? It must have been our great grandfather..”

“The Men of Letters?” Dean repeats, eyes wide like the mood. “Are you sure she said men of letters?”

Sam shrugs, somewhat taken aback by the intensity in Dean’s eyes. “Yeah… why?”

Dean’s heart beats furiously in his chest. It cannot be a coincidence, his mother wrote about the Men of Letters,  _ M.O.L. _ , in her diary and she did so as if they were a real, ongoing thing. Their grandfather belonged to it and wanted her to be a part too but she didn’t want to, she quit the secret society because it scared her for some reason. Samuel wanted her to help him  _ hunt _ for whatever was causing those murders in their town, as if it were up to them and not the police to do it.  _ Hunting,  _ such a weird term to use. What if that’s what they did? What if the Men of Letters were some weird secret society that  _ hunted _ evil things? They were able to do exorcisms and peace treaties with witches... What else could they do?

“Sam, mom belonged to the Men of Letters.”

Sam downright snorts and looks at Dean like he’s crazy this time. “You cannot possibly believe that, Dean. Did dad tell you that?”

“No, I read it in her diary, smartass.”

“ _ What? _ ” he gasps, then punches him in the arm seriously hard.

“Ouch, what the—”

“You’ve had mom’s diary all this time and you didn’t tell me?”

“I’m sorry, okay?” he responds as he rubs his arm. “I got… possessive, I guess.”

“She’s my mom too!” Sam argues angrily, clearly hurt to have been left out. “You don’t think I would want to know more about her too? At least you got to spend time with her, and you don’t even share her diary with me?”

Something in Dean’s chest hurt as Sam’s eyes gleam with the beginning of tears in his eyes. He turns away and crosses his arms over his chest and as Dean watches he doesn’t know what to do to convey how truly sorry he feels.

“Sam, seriously, I am so sorry!”

“For getting caught!” his brother retorts.

“No, dude, really! I just—you had your friends to spend time with, I had this, okay? It hasn’t been easy for me here and I—this gave me something to think about. Sam,” Dean reaches out to squeeze his brother’s shoulder, his chest constricting like there’s an elephant sitting on it with the weight of his guilt, “come on, talk to me. I  _ am _ sorry. I actually wanted to talk to you about it, it’s really weird.”

Dean gives him a moment. Sam is still angry with him, no doubt, but after a few minutes curiosity gets the best of him.

“Weird how?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“Well, like I said, she talks about the Men of Letters and weird stuff about the Novaks and she has a lot of articles about the murders and some accidents that happened around the time you were born… There are also some really weird illustrations, kind of scary actually.”

Turning on his seat, he glares at Dean with all the intensity of his fury until his eyes find the books Dean took from the library that lay between them in the car seat. Nodding in their direction, he asks, “is that why you took those books out?”

“Yeah, actually. I’m just trying to understand her better. Understand our family history better.”

“And Castiel.”

“Wouldn’t hurt,” he admits without even thinking about it, out of instinct. Even if his main motive revolved around his mother, he can’t really deny that it’s about the Novaks too now that he comes to think of it. About Castiel, particularly.

Sam narrows his eyes at him and suddenly smirks, all resentment thrown out the window in a second (Sam was never good at staying angry at him for long). “Do you  _ like _ like him?”

“What are you, 5?” Dean responds but can’t help but feel the sudden heat in his cheeks.

His little brother snorts and lets his arms come down to his sides. “I’d love to see the look in dad’s face if you turn up with a  _ boy _ .” As amused as Sam looks, the thought makes Dean profoundly uncomfortable. It’s an understatement to say he’s been avoiding even talking about the subject around his father, just in case he turns out to be homophobic or something. Dean’s not sure where his dad stands on the matter, he’s never heard John say anything against or pro the LGBTQ community, and truth be told at this point he’s too afraid to ask. “Honestly, I don’t think you can do worse than Bela though. He does  _ not _ like her.”

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t need to worry about her. We’re not a thing anymore.” The relief in Sam’s face is evident and Dean can’t help but chuckle. “Don’t look so devastated, Sam.”

“I’m sorry. I just think you can do better. Is Charlie—”

“Nah, she’s strictly into girls.”

“But is she nice to you?”

“Yes, I think there’s potential for friendship there.”

Sammy smiles with honesty, kindness, almost as if he were the big brother looking out for the other for once. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Sam, I  _ am _ sorry about the diary. I’ll show it to you when we come home, just don’t show dad, okay? I don’t think it would be good for him.”

Sam nods but then points a finger at Dean and looks at him with that level of maturity that matches, if not surpasses, his brother’s. “But stop hiding things from me! You need to talk to me, Dean, about everything, like before. I like living here and having friends and all but you’ll  _ always _ be my best friend. Okay?”

That actually moves something inside of Dean. Those words put a smile on his face and make him feel good. It makes him feel  _ valuable.  _ He had forgotten about that for a while; he did have a friend here, his brother. They’d always have each other.

“Okay, Sammy… By the way I need the diary tonight, Charlie was going to help me decode some stuff.”

Sam narrows his eyes at him but after a second he sighs and says, “fine! But afterwards it’s my turn to have it.”

Later that night when he’s over at Charlie’s, he is eating ice cream sitting on the floor while she lays on her stomach on her bed, flickering through the pages of his mother’s diary. Dean occasionally points out things that are mysterious and most relevant, and he tells her what he learned about the Men of Letter that afternoon. Plus, he shows her the odd key his mother gave him when he was a child and explains he’s tried to find what it opens but hasn’t been successful yet. He’s putting a lot of faith in Charlie because she could easily turn this around on him and spread the word that he’s a lunatic who believes his dead mother was in a secret society that dealt with the supernatural, but somehow he is completely convinced that she won’t, that Charlie’s beyond incapable of (and simply not interested in) that kind of bullshit. Charlie inspects the curious and slightly disturbing illustrations Dean found inside the diary too, eyes shining with interest.

“Awesome,” she whispers, “this is so awesome.”

Dean chuckles, then throws a spoonful of chocolate ice cream into this mouth. “I am glad my family secrets entertain you.”

“They do, they so do,” she grins as she looks up from the diary. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“What did you see in Castiel’s house?” 

Incredulously, he points at her with the spoon and lifts an eyebrow as he asks, “you’re telling me you’ve never been? Aren’t you like his best friend or something?”

“Yeah, but Cas is really weird about his house. He says his uncle doesn’t like to have people over but I know for sure Cas doesn’t want to either. Last time I was there was like, I don’t know, 4 years ago or something. I went to pick up a book he’d borrowed and forgot to give back, I needed it for homework so my mom drove me there. I think I was inside the house for just a minute. It was both amazing and terrifying.”

“Terrifying? Why do people find his house terrifying? It’s eccentric, yeah, but I don’t know, it looks kind of cool too.”

“Definitely but there’s just that feeling that there’s something watching you, don’t you think?”

Dean hesitates for a moment, measuring his next move. He wonders if he’d be pushing his luck by telling her he saw a ghost and also if it’s right to do it because even if it’s safe to tell her, of all people, he doesn’t want her (or Castiel) to think he’s spreading rumours about the Novaks.

She clearly notices he’s hesitating to say something and it piques her interest. She shuffles closer to the edge of the bed, eyes open as wide as they can go with the need to know, and rests her face on her hands.

“What is it?” she whispers.

“I—if I tell you something do you promise not to tell anyone? Not even Castiel. I don’t want him to think I’m spreading rumours about him.”

“What did you see?” she insists, sensing something juicy’s coming.

“When I went over to his house looking for his parents, I went inside—which, yeah, I know it was wrong of me—and I talked to his grandmother. Of course at the time I didn't know it was her.”

Charlie suddenly sits up on her bed, shaking her head at him. “Cas’ grandma’s dead.”

Dean leans forwards and whispers, “I know.” He winks at her as he puts another spoonful of ice cream in his mouth.

“You saw a ghost? You  _ talked _ to a ghost?”

Far from thinking he’s insane, Charlie’s excited about this new revelation.

Dean nods in confirmation as he savours the chocolate in his mouth.

“That is  _ fascinating _ . No wonder they don’t want anyone over there, a lot of people in town would be able to recognize her. What was she like?”

“She was nice… Pale and just as young as when she died. She was a little sad and... lethargic.”

“What did you say to her?”

“I asked her where Castiel’s parents were.”

Charlie gasps and covers the lower half of her face behind the pillow she’s hugging. “ _ And _ ? That’s like the mystery of all mysteries, man!”

That’s really disappointing to hear for Dean because what Cas’ grandmother told him was not helpful at all. “I was hoping you could tell me. She wasn’t making any sense when I spoke to her. She said Clarice was in the garden but all I found was a very realistic statue of her.”

“And his dad?”

“In Hell.”

Charlie blinks a few times stupidly, opening and closing her mouth. “N-no. That can’t be. I’m pretty sure he’s alive. I mean, Castiel never ever talks about his family intentionally  _ but _ he has let some things slip here and there throughout the years that mean he’s still in contact with his dad somehow”

“So you don’t know where he is?”

“No. He’s been gone for years. I know for a fact Cas hasn’t seen him since around the time his mom disappeared. Which is fucking weird, who does that, who leaves their kid like that? But I try not to judge since I don’t have much information. Cas misses him though but he doesn’t seem angry at him, not like I would be if my dad took off like that which always led me to think maybe he  _ can’t  _ come back for some reason. Like, I don’t know, maybe he’s a secret Russian spy living a dangerous life or something so he can’t come back and Cas can’t visit him? I don’t know. Cas doesn’t like to talk about it so we never ask. And for what my mom told me, back then people didn’t know much about Charles either. No one knew where he came from or what he did for a living, just that he was visiting his family’s property when he met Clarice and, well, the rest is history, so he could literally be a spy and no one would know. My mom said he was really nice though, she saw him a few times.”

“Well, maybe he really  _ is  _ a witch and he lives in Hell,” Dean deadpans. They look at each other for a second and snort at the same time.

Sarcastically, Charlie agrees, “that would totally explain everything.”

Entertaining for a second the idea that the Novaks could actually be witches, Dean decides to ask something that had been floating around in the back of his mind. 

“Hey, I was meaning to ask you… You mentioned Roman doesn’t mess with Cas anymore cause he had like a series of ‘unfortunate events’. Bela said the same but what do you guys mean? What exactly was he, hmm,  _ complaining _ about?”

“I don’t know, dumb stuff. Things that Cas  _ obviously  _ couldn’t be blamed for.”

“Humour me, come on. Do you remember anything?”

Charlie bites her lips and gives it some thought. “Well, for example there was an invasion of rats at some point at school. I remember that day they had gotten in a fight, actually. Cas had a black eye for a few days… Anyway, during the lunch break this massive group of rats just  _ appeared _ at school and he was the one who found them but he was being crazy about it, he said they were following him which is just—it’s  _ crazy _ ! Bright side? They had to cancel school to call an exterminator.”

“And whenever something happened to him, he would always blame Cas. A spider landed on him? Cas’ fault. The power went out at his place? Cas’ fault. He slipped or tripped? Cas’ fault. The guy was obsessed with him.”

Her stories, far from being funny, resonate with Dean. He notices the pattern, the coincidences, the way Dean’s been going through something similar and the only thing Dick Roman and him can possibly have in common is that Castiel Novak dislikes them. He feels ridiculous just thinking about it so he chuckles, but deep down uncertainty and suspicion begin to net inside of him.

The redhead lays back on the bed with her arms behind her head and sighs peacefully as she processes all the new information she’s gathered from Dean. He doesn’t find her curiosity insensitive but helpful; she really does care about the cause, about helping Dean figure out the mysteries of his family, it’s just a plus that it’s entertaining and that it may help her solve secrets surrounding Castiel too.

“Man, I’m so glad your family came back, you’re making everything way more interesting.”

At those words, Dean feels something tug at his heart, the beginning of affection towards this girl. As if she knew what he was thinking, interpreting his silence just right when he’s out of words, she turns her head around to smile at him.

“I just hope it lasts,” Dean confesses his fears out loud. He hasn’t done that before, not even with Sammy, because he doesn’t want their family to know he still doesn’t fully believe in them. Dean’s been wired to prepare for the worse, it makes the blow of disappointment easier to bear.

“Your dad looks alright,” Charlie offers as words of encouragement. “My mom says he’s doing really well at work.”

“Really?” Dean asks, heart full of hope.

“Yeah.” Charlie then rolls onto her stomach again and gives him a cheeky smile. “And I’m pretty sure my mum’s still crushing on your dad.”

“I think he’s into her too. He gets… weird when he mentions her. Like a kid trying to hide his crush.”

Charlie suddenly gasps, that mischievous glimmer in her eyes back again. Dean’s rapidly starting to learn how to read her reactions. “We should set them up!” 

“ _ What _ ? Charlie, you’re nuts.”

“Come on, my mom’s a catch!”

“Yeah but you want to set her up with a recovering alcoholic?”

“Hey, everyone deserves a chance. My mom was depressed for a long time too after my parents divorced. It wasn’t nearly as bad as your dad but the bottom line is I get it. We get it. Everyone deserves a chance. And my mom’s a big girl, she can take care of herself.”

“I agree but, I don’t know… not everyone seems to think the same. I know what people say about him. About my family, including myself.”

“They’ll warm up to you, Dean,” Charlie comforts him. “People just like to talk and criticize, unfortunately you’re the town’s newest entertainment. It’ll wear off. It was the same for Garth when he moved in and he’s all settled now. Personally I think you’d be a great addition to our team, a new weirdo for the squad.”

She grins playfully to let him know she meant nothing bad by calling him a weirdo, it’s more of a compliment in her mind.

“I’d like that… not so sure Castiel would agree though... Got any idea why he hates me?”

By the look in her face, the question kills Charlie’s relaxed spirit a little. “Honestly, I don’t get it,” she tells him, hugging the pillow tighter like she needs the comfort. She looks at Dean with an almost pleading look in her eyes, guilt written all over her forehead as she defends her best friend. “Cas is not usually like this—confrontational and, well… kind of mean, actually. I swear he’s such a sweet guy, really nice and loyal and calm. He’s the type of guy who spends the summer reading books on the porch, feeding birds, not the type to get into fights. I mean, I get that he didn’t like the whole thing about you going up to his house but I have to admit I know he had something against you from the get-go.”

“Yeah, he made that pretty clear…”

“Cas is a walking mystery sometimes, but he’s one of the nicest people I know. I don’t know why he’s being like this, he didn’t mind Garth when he came along. He seems to think there’s some sort of bad blood between your families. What was it he said?” Charlie bites her lips for a second, then she nods to herself as she remembers his exact words. “He said something like your mom betrayed his? He says your mom caused your family a lot of suffering.”

Dean scoffs. “What? No way. My mom loved Clarice, you read it. Even if she didn’t approve of Charles, she was always nice to him, according to my dad. They were friends!”

“Yeah, I know, that’s why I don’t really get him. But he didn’t seem like he was lying, he seemed really hurt.”

“And he didn’t say anything else?”

“Like I said, he didn’t want to talk about it.”

The forgotten ice cream in Dean’s bowl melts as he’s engrossed in their conversation. Castiel knows something. Cas knows  _ many _ things, of that Dean is sure. From the day Dean arrived Castiel has been keeping secrets, secrets that Dean is dying to know, secrets that he’s willing to keep even from his closest friends.

“What could she possibly have done though?” Dean asks out loud, mostly to himself. If Cas isn’t lying, which Dean can’t know for sure though, what could have Mary done to cause the Novaks any suffering? “My dad never mentioned anything about them fighting and she died before Clarice disappeared.”

“Well…”

Charlie trails off and Dean narrows her eyes at her.

“What?”

“Look, it’s a rumour—”

“ _ Another  _ one?”

Charlie shrugs apologetically and continues. “So, officially the fire in your house happened two days before Clarice was reported missing by Castiel’s uncle  _ but _ rumour has it she went missing before that and Gabriel delayed reporting it.”

“Why would he do that?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. When your mom passed, Clarice wasn’t anywhere to be seen according to my mom. Gabriel said she was too devastated to get out of bed but some people, including Castiel’s grandfather, always thought that was bullshit. So, some people think she went missing  _ before  _ that. Others think she just ran away because Castiel’s dad is in the mafia or something and that that’s why he disappeared, and Gabriel was just trying to find her to save the family from the drama.  _ Anyway,  _ as far as everyone knows, your mom was the last person besides Gabriel and, well, Cas to have seen her alive.”

“What are you implying?” Dean asks, suddenly defensive. 

“Nothing!” she assures him as she slides down the bed to sit next to him and reaches out for his hand. Her hand is warm on his skin, an anchor in a wild sea of emotions. “I’m just telling you what I know, Dean. Maybe Cas  _ thinks _ she had something to do with his mom’s disappearance.”

“Do you think Gabriel did something to her?”

“Not at all,” she responds quickly and honestly. “I know him, he’s weird, sure, but he’s a good guy. He always took good care of Cas, he would never do anything that could hurt him.”

Dean nods to himself, leaning his back against the bed frame as he tries to put together all the things he’s learned. Charlie seems to do the same, all the while her hand still wrapped around his. There are simply too many mysteries to unpack and too many pieces of the puzzle missing.

“I wish…” Charlie starts in a small voice, opening up her vulnerable side. She stops to take a deep breath and Dean simply waits, giving her the time she needs to gather her thoughts. “I just wish he’d open up to me, you know? Sometimes… it hurts, it’s hard not to take it personally. He has secrets, I can tell, it’s obvious, and I know it’s stupid of me to make it about me but I just wish he’d trust me enough to tell me.”

“Maybe they’re not his secrets to tell, Charlie,” Dean tries to comfort her, wondering if it’s just that or if there’s a side of him that still wants to believe in Cas and the goodness in him. He rubs his thumb over her hand, drawing circles in the skin. It feels nice to be this close to someone without there being any sexual tension for a change, to have a friend just because and not because they want something from Dean, the cute easy drifter he made himself into.

Charlie turns to stare at him, clear resolve in her eyes. “Maybe not to  _ me _ , but they’re  _ your _ family secrets too. If your family was part of a secret society that made deals with the Novaks, don’t you think he must know something? Or maybe there’s a book, a journal somewhere in that big old house of his with information? And he knows something about your mom, something he doesn’t want to tell us. I think it’s unfair of him to say the bad bits and keep the rest to himself.”

“Charlie,” Dean interrupts her, holding her hand a little tighter so she’ll focus on his words. She sighs, exasperated, and Dean gives her a warm smile. “Take a breather, alright? Don’t get mad with him. I don’t want to get between you two, okay? He’s your best friend. He must have his reasons to keep secrets.”

Slowly Charlie lets go of her frustration and melts against the side of the bed. All of a sudden she looks a little ashamed of herself and her tiny outburst. “I know, I know…”

“Look, let  _ me _ worry about him. Don’t get caught in the middle of this. I mean it, okay?”

“But will you let me know if you find out something more? I mean, it’s all pretty damn interesting.”

He chuckles and pats her hand before he lets go and continues eating his ice cream which is now pretty much melted but still really tasty; blessed be Charlie’s mom who bought it for them specifically. 

“Alright, partner in crime. I’ll keep you posted.”


	12. Chapter 12

Castiel sees them coming all the way from the entrance of the cafeteria and he doesn’t know what he should do. Should he get up and leave? He risks looking like a jerk if he does and he really doesn’t have the energy or the will to deal with that, but it goes against his better judgement to stay as well. Before he has the time to arrive at a decision, Charlie and Benny are already sitting down on their table, chatting animatedly with Dean. The latter hesitates before sitting down though, locking eyes with Cas rather cautiously, almost bracing himself before the other starts some sort of argument. Benny, oblivious to Dean’s behaviour, makes room for him and signals for Dean to sit down next to him. Dean takes a seat but not without occasionally throwing quick, nervous glances in Castiel’s direction. Before he’d been participating in the conversation avidly but now he’s more quiet, in defence mode.

Feeling a bit betrayed by his friends, who know of his feelings towards Dean even if he hasn’t explained them in detail, Cas looks down at his food and busies himself with it. He eats slowly but steadily to avoid participating in the conversation and therefore somewhat accepting Dean’s presence as normal, even if he’s not hungry anymore. He’s being childish, he knows that deep down, or at least it will seem so in his friends’ eyes because Cas has given no real good reason as to why he doesn’t want to be close to Dean. As usual he can’t say more than a few mysterious things with no further explanation, which they usually put up with without questioning him any further but he has the feeling it’s not going to cut it this time, not when Charlie is this sweet person that wants to help the new kid settle in and Benny has apparently a lot in common with him. That just leaves Garth but the guy is a sweetheart, even if he doesn’t have anything in common with Dean he will probably like him as long as Dean’s not a jerk.

Lost in thought, Garth’s question catches him off guard.

“What did you do this weekend, Cas?”

He responds without really thinking about it. “Not much, I went to see my grandfather.”

The silence that ensues makes Castiel look up. Charlie, Benny and Garth stare at him in shock, clearly waiting for more. They all know Cas doesn’t have a relationship with his grandfather, that Oliver rejected him soon after Clarice died and that the whole subject is very sensitive and painful for Cas. Or used to be, at least. 

Dean, on the other hand, is grinning all of a sudden. “Did he show you the Halloween pictures?”

Not wanting to be impolite and ignore Dean in front of everyone, Cas nods once, shortly. The other chuckles in response.

“They’re cute, aren’t they?”

Cas simply nods again.

“I’m sorry, wait, hold on, rewind,” Charlie cuts in, holding a hand up. “Since when are you on good terms with your grandfather?”

“Well…” 

Cas hesitates for a moment, throwing a quick glance in Dean’s direction before his eyes land back on Charlie. He knows he should give Dean some credit, show some kind of gratitude, but it’s hard to balance that with the fact that he’s still trying to put a distance between them. The worst part is Dean doesn’t look like he’s about to praise himself and take credit for the reconnection between Castiel and his grandfather, even though he could. It’d be much easier if he did, if he was self-centered and made everything about himself, but instead he stays quiet and gives Cas the space to tell his own story.

_ Curse his good nature,  _ Cas thinks to himself.

Rather reluctantly, he tells the truth. “I suppose… something Dean said,” he gestures with his hand in Dean’s general direction but avoids meeting his eyes, “made him realize he was being, well,  _ stupid _ about, you know, not wanting to see me. So when I ran into him he invited me over for dinner. I went. It was… nice. He made spaghetti bolognese, my mom’s favourite according to him. It was really good, actually. Then we watched a movie. We agreed not to talk about my dad or Gabe, just to keep things neutral. And... that’s all.”

Garth brings his hands to his chest and smiles from ear to ear. “I’m so happy for you, Cas, that sounds awesome.”

“It does!” Charlie agrees happily. She, more than anyone, knows how much this really means to Cas, even if at the time he’s not showing a lot of enthusiasm about it. She puts an arm around his shoulders and pulls him in to kiss his cheek. He can’t help but smile.

“Thanks,” he tells them, and then letting himself be softer as if Dean wasn’t there he adds, “it’s definitely an improvement.”

Charlie keeps her arm around him for a while which is nice but he still feels distant from the rest. He is a little jealous as he watches Dean and Benny interact; they hit it off right away, like two peas in a pot. He’s not sure what exactly bothers him about it though. It’s not as if he’s not closed with Benny although honestly it took a while for them to get there. At first Benny ran with Dick’s crew, ever since elementary school, until they got older and Benny got tired of Roman’s shitty attitude. Benny may look the type but he’s no bully, he’s a gentle soul that just wants some peace of mind. He befriended Charlie rather quickly when they partnered up for a long school project but Cas doesn’t have her charms so it took them longer to become close. That didn’t stop Cas from having a crush on him, something he never acted on because he knew his friend was not into boys. Eventually the crush faded away but Cas can’t help but feel something like jealousy stirring in his gut. Maybe it’s just because he wishes it were as easy as it is for Dean to interact with others when given a chance. He’s charming, more than easy on the eyes, knows about a lot of things when it comes to pop culture (unlike Cas) and he also has a lot of interesting stories to tell from travelling across the country all his life. Castiel wishes he could be more charismatic too but between his poor social skills and the secrets he has to guard, he is painfully aware of how he comes off as cryptic and eccentric. He usually doesn’t mind, he’s used to it for the most part but today… today is one of those days when feeling different kind of sucks.

For the most part Cas is quiet, participating in the conversation where he can, avoiding acknowledging Dean’s presence when possible. He dances around the new guy at the table pretty decently, but it’s tiresome and anxiety inducing. Something tells him he’s going to have to get used to it though because Dean’s a hit with his friends so he will more likely than not be joining them from now on. It’s hard to change Charlie’s opinions when she makes her mind up about something and apparently she is set on salvaging Dean’s social life.

As they gather their things to go, Garth says, “hey, my mom’s baking new cakes on Thursday, can you guys come over after school?”

Garth’s family has one of the best bakeries in town, if not the best. His dad’s in charge of all things bread while his mom does the pastries and usually uses Garth’s friends as guinea pigs for cake testing—which of course they don’t complain about, they usually make a day out of it. Benny’s face lights up like a Christmas tree; he’s a  _ huge _ fan of her cakes.

“Yes!” Charlie and Benny exclaim in unison. Then Charlie turns towards Dean and grabs his arm rather aggressively, startling him, and says, “you  _ have _ to come, it’s the best ever, dude.”

“It’s that time of the year,” Benny whispers to himself with a smile on his face. The Fitzgerald usually change their products once a year, to keep their business interesting for people, and when they do they have Garth’s friends be the judges of their new creations.

“Sure,” Dean agrees without needing much convincing.

Castiel is disappointed to hear he’s going but Garth’s mom’s cakes are truly good enough that he wouldn't miss it for the world. Besides, he doesn’t want to say no in front of their friends because he knows everyone will know it’s because of Dean and he’d rather not appear to be so dramatic.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world...” he mutters to himself.

The following days Cas struggles with Dean’s presence at their table. Charlie always seems to all but drag him to join them, Cas figures Dean’s still not comfortable enough to assume he’s welcome there every day or maybe he can just sense Castiel’s rejection radiating from him. It wouldn’t be too hard to pick up on it, honestly. Either way, everyone pushes through it and no one speaks about the clear tension between Castiel and Dean (which is mostly one-sided), including Cas, except for Thursday when he makes some lame excuse about being behind with homework and he decides to have his meal outside under the sun, by himself. It’s not so bad, it’s really nice outside but he would rather be with his friends. A tiny part inside of him feels a pang of jealousy as he thinks of Dean, with his funny jokes and his winning smile, making all of  _ Castiel’s _ friends laugh. He wishes he could be that witty and quick with his words, but instead he’s always been on the quiet side, with a more deadpan kind of sense of humour.

Cas plucks the grass from the ground somewhat angrily, stewing over the whole situation. He’s never felt more obviously different before. Before it seemed to make him somewhat appealing and curious in the eyes of others, now it’s just isolating him. 

And it all started with Dean.

His nights continue to be plagued with nightmares, he wishes he could get some peace during the day but no, not with Dean around. The more he retrieves into himself, the less he speaks to his friends, the worse the visions get. It haunts him, day and night. When he tunes out during lunch or when he seeks solitude to have a break from Dean, his thoughts turn towards the nightmares. The  _ warnings. _ The fire, the desolation, the end of life as they know it. He hears the logic on his evil self, the one in the nightmares, whispering to him that it’s better that way, that humankind needs to be reset for its own good, that they’re out of control but Castiel has the strength to force the balance back on them by wiping the slate clean and starting over with a world of his own. Cas doesn’t want to think about that because he wants to believe he can open the door and save his family without risking losing everything else, including himself.

On Thursday, Dean offers to drive them all to Garth’s after school. Even his car is popular with his friends, much to Cas’ annoyance. Mrs Fitzgerald waits for them with the cakes she wants them to try; they’re small in size, made so that each of them has only a small piece of each cake, but there are plenty of them. There are two different types of carrot cakes—which lifts Castiel’s spirit because carrot cake is his favourite—, a chocolate cake that even though it looks like a kick in the stomach Dean is eyeing it like it’s the centre of the universe, a red velvet cake, a sponge cake with a layer of whipped cream and smashed berries inside and last but not least an Italian apple cake.

Cas walks towards their huge dinner table where the cakes are on display, waiting for them, making a beeline for the carrot cakes. 

“Carrot cake, yes,” he murmurs to himself, smiling like a boy on Christmas.

Garth’s mom appears from the kitchen and goes straight to him to give him a hug.

“I see you’ve found the carrot cakes, Cas.”

Cas welcomes the hug, enjoying the motherly affection she always gives him so freely. He’s always liked the Fitzgeralds, they are a family of warm, welcoming people.

“Yes, it’s—”

“Your favourite,” she finishes for him, then winks an eye at him, “I know. I’m trying different frostings and there’s no better judge for carrot cake than you.”

The idea that she thought of him while choosing and making the cakes warms his heart. He has no idea how he's supposed to judge these cakes though, any carrot cake blows his mind. Only a truly terrible carrot cake can disappoint him and, even then, he will probably finish the whole thing nonetheless.

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to give an objective opinion,” he responds with the brightest smile he’s had all week, “all your carrot cakes are perfection to me.”

Mrs Fitzgerald chuckles and slaps his arm in a friendly manner. “You’re too kind, Cas! I have an extra mini apple cake for your uncle—oh, yes, I know it’s his favourite too.”

“He’ll be really thankful for it, thanks.” 

“My pleasure, we’re forever in debt with him, darling.”

“Castiel’s uncle lent my parents the money to start the bakery,” Garth explains to Dean, who was watching their exchange with a bit of wonder; he hasn’t seen Cas be this naturally good-natured too often, it’s like he’s a whole other person. Cas turns around to find Dean standing next to him, awfully close. “Bank wouldn’t give us a loan, so he did.”

“That’s very nice of him,” Dean tells Cas as if he were the one talking to Dean.

Uncomfortable with Dean’s closeness and the attentiveness of those green eyes that stare into his soul, Cas focuses again on the carrot cakes, the perfectly smooth frostings. It’s not Dean’s proximity per se that rattles him, but whatever it is that it sparks in him. After a second, and only because he feels Charlie’s watchful eyes on him, he responds to Dean. “Yeah, well, Gabe has a sweet tooth. It wasn’t hard to convince him to sponsor these cakes.”

Dean huffs a laugh. From the corner of his eye Cas sees he’s about to say something else. He is once again trying to fix whatever is broken between them, even though Castiel clearly doesn’t want him to. Not wanting Dean to get the wrong idea that they’re friends now and it’s open season for getting to know each other, he excuses himself quickly with a lame excuse like wanting to wash his hands before eating.

By the time he’s back, Garth’s mom has cut two cakes and put one piece of each in their plates. The pieces aren’t big enough that they’re going to get overly saturated by the sweet food, so that they can keep testing more afterwards, but they’re just big enough to have a couple of bites to really think about the flavor and consistency. Castiel’s plate is still on the table but his friends have already taken theirs to the living room where they’re gathered around the coffee table, starting a game of Uno. Charlie’s just explaining the rules to Dean because the way they play it is a little different when Cas takes his seat on an armchair. Cas is grateful that’s the game they picked because all in all it doesn’t require that much interaction with Dean. He could be quiet the entire game with the excuse that a poker face is the best way to win the game.

Unfortunately, the more time Dean spends with them, the more naturally he begins to behave, showing that he is a very extroverted person who participates in conversations more than he usually lets himself talk at school. Even though it isn’t required for the game, he tries to engage with the half witch a lot. Cas is not sure whether he’s doing it on purpose or not or what he expects to gain from it—does he want to be friends or does he want to make him look like an ass?—but he feels under the spotlight every time Dean directs his attention to him, like he owes him a response when all he really wants is to be left alone. Cas keeps it civil but it’s exhausting to be so aware of his behaviour all the time. The worst part is how conflicted he’s about Dean, there are just too many feelings associated with the guy. On the one hand there’s the envy steadily growing in him when he sees how easily Dean’s charming his friends. On the other hand, Cas can’t help but feel a little charmed himself. There’s just…  _ something _ about him that makes him appealing. He has a distinct presence, even if he’s not particularly well spoken or fancy. It could be his friendly demeanour, the slight pity Cas feels towards him, that unfairly radiant smile or the simple air about him that draws people’s eyes to him. The change is evident ever since Castiel lifted the curse, even if some permanent damage was done in the minds of some people in town but it would mostly affect those who are already prone to be hateful and judgemental. Cas is sure that if he’d never cursed Dean, he would have adapted easily and pretty quickly. There’s just some about him that makes people gravitate towards him, something that makes them feel welcome and safe, and it doesn’t hurt that he’s so handsome for such a young age.

But then Cas knows Dean could be dangerous, that he has hunter’s blood and without his mother around to teach him the Novaks are allies, not enemies, who is to say what Dean could do once he found out the truth? Castiel isn’t  _ afraid  _ of him, he could easily overpower Dean as he is ignorant in the subjects of the occult and doesn’t know how to fight witches properly, but Cas would hate to have to hurt him. He also  _ can’t _ seriously injure him or the magic of the peace treaty will have his head, so they would most likely have to run which would be just the worse thing Castiel can possibly imagine… to have to leave his home, the land that has belonged to his family for generations, just because this one little hunter decides he’s not welcome anymore, that would be devastating. And Cas is going on a limb here but he is pretty sure the hunter would not agree to them opening the door to Hell because without much explanation given, he has to admit it can’t sound awesome to a mortal.

The cakes keep him going but the conflict of interests that keep him from making up his mind about Dean is destroying his patience. Everything would be much easier if Dean were an asshole. Or if his face wasn’t so symmetrical and easy on the eyes. Or if he was rude or stupid. But he’s pretty much a great fit in his group of friends which means he’s pretty much a decent, interesting person, and in this case it’s a bummer for Castiel. Dean fits in as if he’s an old time friend coming back to town and his friends are quickly remembering the reasons why they loved him. Castiel has to constantly remind himself Dean is an enemy and he is not to be underestimated, even if he hasn’t discovered the occult yet, because once he does (and Cas figures it’s a matter of time considering the books Seir reported seeing him taking from the public library) the bunker of the Men of Letters has an awful lot of knowledge to feed Dean and even powerful magical tools to aid him. 

Before the sun goes down, Cas is the first to say he’s going home. Much to his horror, Dean decides to call it a night too and offers to take him home. Once again finding himself under the spotlight, Cas doesn’t say anything and just nods. They thank Garth’s parents for the invitation and gather their things, which for Cas includes an apple cake for Gabriel. Dean seems to be in great spirits when they leave the house together, probably thinking this is a sign of Castiel accepting his efforts to make peace between them, but as soon as they’re on the street heading away from Garth’s, Cas makes his intentions clear.

“Dean, you don’t need to drive me, I rather walk home.”

Dean stops dead on his tracks and turns to face him. Cas isn’t sure what to read in his expression, if it’s disappointment, confusion or something else.

“I really don’t mind driving you. I like to drive,” he responds and he really does sound sincere.

“It’s not about that, it’s just…” Cas takes a deep breath and licks his lips, trying to think of his words carefully. “I feel like I’m repeating myself here but... we’re not friends. We’re not  _ going _ to be friends.”

The change in Dean is very clear. He tries not to frown but fails. He’s obviously showing frustration, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, biting at his bottom lip as he too tries to think before speaking.

“Why not? Why can’t we be friends?”

“Why do you even want to be my friend?” Cas retorts, throwing his arms out. “Haven’t we established I’m an ass to you?”

“Yeah and I’d like to know why. What did I ever do to you? Look, man, whatever happened between your parents and my mom went down over 10 years ago, that’s got nothing to do with us.”

Dean, always trying to break the space between them for some reason, takes a step towards him, but Cas takes one back.

“It has  _ everything _ to do with us!” he says before he can help himself. He shouldn’t really let on any more information, even if Dean most likely realizes Cas knows more than what he is willing to share, because the closer Dean gets to the truth, the closer he is from repeating history and following on his mother’s path to seal the door to Hell forever. 

The moment Cas starts to lose his temper, the wind picks up. He curses under his breath, balling his hands into fists, trying to gain control back. Dean looks around as the leaves roll away, apparently a bit spooked by the great timing of the weather. Cas is more aware than ever that he needs to control himself because he is in front of a  _ hunter _ who may not yet know about witches but still seems to be pretty perceptive.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Cas looks at Dean and says, “listen to me, Dean, just stay away from me, okay? Just trust me, it’s for the best.” 

_ Because if we become friends and then we become enemies, it’ll be that much harder to destroy each other,  _ Cas thinks but keeps it to himself of course, because that would just make Dean have so many more questions.

Dean runs a hand through his hair, pulling a little at the tips. Everything Cas tells him just puzzles him even more. “What is that supposed to mean? Man, why do you have to be so damn cryptic? I deserve to know what happened between our parents.”

Cas just throws his arms out again and shrugs tiredly as he takes several steps back. It’s just the role he needs to play, for everyone’s sake. The occult, Satan, Hell, the apocalypse, those are  _ his _ burdens, no one else’s, and this is  _ his _ town and he will protect it, no matter what it costs him. “There are some things best left unknown.”

For a moment Cas thinks Dean is going to argue but he seems to realize it’s pointless. Standing next to his car, he simply yells at Cas in resignation, “just let me drive you home!” 

“Stop being nice to me!” Cas yells back. Dean’s stubborn kindness is infuriating. 

The witch begins to walk away, picking up his pace, shoving his hands on his pockets as he hurries home. Truly, he doesn’t mind walking but this time it feels more like he’s running from Dean than anything else.

The last thing Cas sees as he glances in Dean’s direction one last time over his shoulder is the other guy throwing his arms out and giving Castiel a look of  _ are you serious? _ And, yes, he realizes it’s something crazy to ask someone but Cas wishes it would be easier to make an enemy out of Dean. If he could just tell his friends what he is, if they could understand that Dean’s kind usually hunts and kills his own, maybe then they’d understand why he doesn’t like the new guy hanging out with them… On the other hand though they would probably oppose him with the whole matter of opening up the door to Hell again…

As he walks through the dirt road leading up to his house, he kicks a rock in frustration. Clouds gather above him but he keeps his emotions in check or at least enough so that it doesn't start raining on him. He’s always found that rather annoying, the way he’s connected to the weather like that for some odd reason. It’s the most fascinating and powerful display of his powers which he doesn’t really use that much. On Earth, in that little town of his, he doesn’t have  _ that _ much use for it, there are no great spells he wishes to cast or at least none that would be safe to perform with the people he loves living so close to him. He could do amazing things, his family has always told him that. He could control creatures, even demons, and raise the dead. He could curse bad people in power who seem untouchable, he could bring down tragedy and death and storms upon them. He could cause a damn hurricane with the right training, could sweep an entire town away with rain and strong winds. With the right kind of magic and the right kind of mindset, he could achieve things of biblical proportions and make history happen, but in that tamed life of his he uses his powers for silly little things like cursing the school bully or playing the piano. He also sometimes uses it for good, helping people where he can with little good deeds like helping someone’s car start over or conjuring someone’s homework when they forgot it at home.

Midway to his house, Castiel senses there’s a presence following him again. He stops and closes his eyes, trying to locate whatever is following him, but he can’t quite pinpoint its location. It’s like it’s nowhere and everywhere, something incorporeal. Cas feels surrounded. He could say the conjuration of compassion again to get rid of the presence but he chooses not to this time. Fuelled by his desire to do more with his life, tired of always doing what is easy and safe, he decides to confront the spirit so he forces it to reveal itself.

_ You who lived yesterday, _

_ I call you from my mind to yours. _

_ Come back from the shadows into the light  _

_ and show yourself here. _

By the side of the road not one by three spirits appear. They are three young women, all dressed in black dresses and robes which dissolve into a mist where they should reach the ground. Their faces are partially hidden by dark hair, giving them a spooky appearance worthy of ghosts from horror movies.

Castiel is ready to defend himself should they attack him but the three spirits lift their heads and in unison give him sly but nonthreatening grins. He’s rather surprised by the beauty of their pale faces.

“Castiel, it is so good to meet a witch as powerful as you,” the one in the middle says before the three of them make vow to him.

Without patience for diplomacy, he asks rather crudely, “what do you want from me and why are you following me?”

“We only mean to guide you,” one says. They start to move around him, circling him, and since they look so similar he starts losing track of who’s talking to him.

“To teach you,” another continues.

“So you can reach your full potential.”

“So you can get everything you desire.”

“We have knowledge.”

“We have secrets!”

“We can show you the things you’re too afraid to explore.”

“We can take down your enemies.”

“We can get you to the top!”

Castiel’s eyes jump from one to the other, turning on his feet like a fool to keep track of them. “To the top? What do you mean to the top?”

“You could be the greatest witch to have ever lived!” one flatters him, standing awfully close to him with an almost maniac smile on her face. 

“If only you allow us to show you how.”

“If only you  _ dared _ .”

Cas shakes his head and starts walking home again. “I don’t have any enemies.”

“Don’t you?”

“We all do.”

“I could name a few.”

He rolls his eyes, trying not to pay too much attention to them now that it’s evident they mean no harm to him. “Don’t bother.” 

“That popular boy who treated you so badly. He deserves it, doesn’t it? A curse or two.”

“I’ve already cursed him more than enough,” the witch points out.

One of the spirits scoffs and shakes his head at him. “Not nearly enough”

“He’s evil, that one. Unkind, unruly, unworthy. He deserves to be punished.”

Tilting his head to the side, Cas lifts an eyebrow and huffs a laugh, finding the hypocrisy of their argument slightly amusing “If he’s evil, what are  _ you _ ?”

The spirits pretend to be offended but they look more flattered than anything else to him. He has the feeling that he should ignore them altogether, that talking to them just encourages them, like petty children seeking attention. 

“We bring justice and balance.”

“We punish the wicked.”

“And spread Satan’s words.”

“Indulgence instead of abstinence, he tells us.” 

“You have abstained plenty.”

“Too much!”

“Vengeance instead of turning the other cheek, he tells us.”

“You are too forgiving.”

“Satan represents all sins, which all lead to gratification.”

“Don’t you want gratification, Castiel?”

“Mental.”

“Emotional.”

“Physical.”

One of the spirits winks at him which sends a shiver down his spine for all the wrong reasons. He feels stupid as his cheeks colour but he is really uncomfortable discussing that sort of things with them. With anyone, really. Satan is about liberation, exploring, pleasure, but Cas has always struggled with that part… especially because there aren’t too many people he can explore with in this little town, not too many guys out of the closet willing to experiment with him. And even when he found someone, it just didn’t feel right, he couldn’t do it. He wanted to want it but he didn’t, something just didn’t click between them. In mortals’ eyes he was a weirdo and for immortals he was a prude, a goody two shoes who was too human to live by Satan’s words. He was stuck, not really belonging anywhere.

“Sorry but I’m not attracted to women. Or dead people.”

“Aren’t you tired of being a good boy?”

Rolling his eyes, Cas cracks his neck, frustrated, tired of hearing his own thoughts echoed by them, and hurries up. He can’t wait to get home, he knows the spirits won’t follow him into the house.

“Can’t you feel your magic asking to be let out?”

The spirit reaches for his hand, running the tip of her ghostly fingers up his forearm. Cas feels the electricity shooting up his arm, the magic in his veins reacting to the supernatural force calling out to it. The young witch retracts his arms immediately, scared by how good that felt.

“Leave me alone,” he mutters, keeping his eyes focused on the road ahead.

“You can make us leave.”

Closer to his ear, one of them whispers, “but do you want us to leave?”

Castiel closes his eyes for a second, overwhelmed by the constant chatter, the manipulative words, the taking of turns to talk to him, distract him, confuse him.

“You’re curious,” one of them tells him with amusement in her tone, and it’s practically an accusation. The three of them giggle, teasing him as they surround him.

“You’re looking for something.”

“We can give it to you.”

“Power.”

“Knowledge.”

“You could have your family back.”

“You could have your  _ friends _ back.”

Cas swallows and wonders just how long they have been following him, how much it’s intuition or if they can see into his mind, his soul. Even in death, powerful witches remain powerful spirits and three of them together… three is a crowd.

“No Dean, no hunters, no obstacles.”

“Get rid of the hunter.”

“Before he gets rid of you.”

“Before he  _ replaces _ you.”

“He’s not going to replace me!” Cas snaps, a deafening thunder rumbling close by on cue. The first drops of rain start to fall. Castiel shuts his eyes and breathes hard through his nose, clenching his hands. He has to regain control, show no weakness.

“Yes, get angry!”

“Let it out!”

“Don’t hold back!”

Through gritted teeth, Castiel mutters, “shut up. Leave me alone.”

“Feel the power.”

“Feed the storm.”

“ _ Control  _ the storm!”

“Show them what you’re capable of!”

“I said shut up!”

As Cas opens his eyes to face them with all the rage and frustration bursting out of him, lightning strikes a tree only meters away from him. The tree breaks in half, part of it catching fire. The sound is earsplitting, the light is blinding. He jumps back, covering his eyes instinctively, and then freezes, fearing for a moment that the ground current will travel to him and possibly kill me. He’s expecting it, even waits for tragedy to strike as he knows there’s nothing he can do about it, but when he finally feels something it’s far from painful. The electricity pumping through his veins is like his own familiar magic coming back home, to the source of it— _ himself— _ but multiplied by tenfold in intensity. The overwhelming sensation brings him to his hands and knees, travels through his entire body and has him gasp for air. He lets it happen though, doesn’t fight it back, he lets the power be one with him, revelling in the sensation.

Around him, the rain suddenly stops.

When he stands up his legs aren’t shaky as he’d expected; quite the opposite, he feels invincible. He looks down at his muddy hands, feeling the buzz under his skin. With adrenaline and magic running through his veins like potent drugs, a shaky smile pulls at the corner of his lips.

“Cas!”

The young witch lifts his gaze to his brother running towards him, an open umbrella in his hand. Gabe tosses it to the side when he reaches his brother in favour of cupping his face and begins checking him for injuries.

“Are you okay?” Cas nods. Gabriel swallows hard, his hands coming down to Castiel’s shoulders. “For Satan’s sake, what the hell was that? Was that  _ you _ ? That lightning was awfully close!”

“Yes, I—I did that.”

Castiel points towards the tree that is still burning. Gabe follows his eyesight and with a quick movement of his hand puts the fire out. When his brother looks back at him, he seems beyond bewildered. 

“How did that not fry you?”

“I don’t know, it felt—it felt amazing. I always thought I caused the storms because I was losing control but, I don’t know, I felt like the power was coming  _ back _ to me. I felt incredible, Gabe.”

Gabriel lifts an eyebrow and starts leading him home with an arm around his shoulders as if he still expected Cas to break down from the exposure to the lightning.

“Alright, don’t get a boner, weirdo. What’s with you and the weather? What set you off this time?”

“The spirits.”

“What spirits?”

The more Cas says, the more at a loss of what is going on Gabe seems to be.

“Three spirits, actually. They’re following me. They want—I don’t know what they want. What was it that they said…?” The dark haired boy bites his bottom lip, trying to focus through the cloudy buzz that still electrifies his head, his soul. “To help me reach my full potential.”

Suddenly things click for Gabriel. He clicks his tongue and nods to himself before he explains things to Cas. “Brother, you’re being called.” After his little brother gives him a confused look, Gabe continues, “as in, to the dark side. They’re trying to tempt you into sin.”

“Should I be worried?” Castiel asks slowly, maybe more to himself than to Gabe. He isn’t afraid of sinning as the humans normally are, he knows his entire family is made out of sinners for it is Satan’s way. Just as the spirits say, indulgence is a big pillar of the witches’ lifestyle. But Castiel has held back for the most part throughout his life, by either lack of opportunity or desire. Maybe he can be found guilty of gluttony and occasional lying, but that is about it and by witches’ standards, that’s just at a mere mortal’s level of sinning.

“It sounds worse than it is, really,” Gabe goes on, “sinning is very common for us but you’ve had a rather… sheltered, human upbringing here.” 

There it is again, the humanity that sets him apart from his whole family, the one that marks him to be so different. Would he be someone else if his mother hadn’t been human? Would he be more of a free spirit, sinning and enjoying life and doing Satan knows what in Hell? Probably. A tiny part of him wishes it were that simple.

“Should I sin more, then?”

Gabe, oblivious to whatever is going on in his brother’s head, just shrugs. “If you’d like. It’s normal to be tempted, one way or the other. We  _ are  _ children of Satan after all, the greatest of all sinners. You have a kind soul, Cas, the light inside of you is bound to attract dark spirits. I mean, it’s very rare for a Satanist to have such a…  _ pristine  _ soul.”

“So you think I should sin more?” Cas asks again because he’s terribly confused now. Gabriel has raised him to be like this, a kind, quite normal person, all in all, not a sinner, not a troublemaker. Does he  _ want _ Cas to be different? Is he being encouraged by his own brother into doing bad deeds?

But Gabriel shakes his head and looks at him from the corner of his eyes. “Doesn’t matter what I think, Cas, it’s  _ your _ life and you’re reaching that stage where you’ve got to start making your own decisions. Can’t ask me what’s wrong or right anymore, baby bro, you’ve got to decide that for yourself, just like Satan wants us to.”

Cas sighs, not sure whether that helps or not.

Trying to lift up his spirits, Gabe shakes him a little with the arm he still has wrapped around his brother’s shoulder and smiles down at him. “Hey, they’re just spirits, don’t listen to them if you don’t want to. They have no power over a powerful witch like you. Just resist the temptation and nothing bad will happen...  _ or _ give in and live a little. Explore your magic. You know,  _ rebel _ , take some risks, practise sex magic or whatever. Give me a reason to ground you for once in your life.” Gabe smirks and elbows him after pulling his arm away. Then, as an afterthought, because he  _ is _ still the adult in charge, he adds, “just, you know, don’t do anything I wouldn't do, like something big enough that will attract hunters, and don’t seriously harm anyone, ‘k? No murder under my watch. I think that would weigh heavy on you.”

“Have  _ you _ ever seriously harmed anyone? On purpose, I mean.”

Gabriel snorts, staring back at his brother like he can’t believe Castiel’s even asking. “Of course I have. If I were human, I’d go to Hell anyway. But that’s me, Cas. I’m okay with  _ my _ choices. Everyone I cursed had it coming, Satan as my witness. But just because you can do something doesn’t always mean you should. Maybe it’s just not right for you. I don’t mind staining my soul, but do you?”

“Hmm…”

Castiel has a lot to think about. First of all, he’s impressed by how serious and mature Gabriel’s being about the whole situation, but if something were to make him be serious, discussing Castiel’s soul would surely do the trick. On the other hand, it’s time he starts to think who he wants to be. Not who others teach him to be or expect him to be. What does  _ Cas _ want to do with his life? Does he want to follow in his immortal family’s footsteps and lead a carefree life where he makes his own ethics, where sinning is for the brave and strong willed, not necessarily the wicked? Satan gives them the choice  _ and _ the power to do great things, including sinning. It’s not a bad thing in their eyes, it’s just their lifestyle… But in his mortal family’s eyes, it would be wrong. Causing suffering by imparting judgement based on his beliefs and his only… is the right thing to do? That is the choice Satan and now Gabriel are giving him, to make his own sense of right or wrong. If he punishes someone evil, is that right or wrong? Does that make him evil or is it divine justice? Is  _ vengeance _ justice? Having to decide on his own, it’s a blessing and a curse at the same time, a tough choice to make, because what if he gives it a go and really hurts someone only to realize it’s not what he wanted? If he’s too weak to bear the consequences of his actions, it could crush him. Or what if he grows power hungry? When will enough  _ be _ enough once he starts playing judge, jury and executioner? As far as he knows, a witch can spend decades or even hundreds of years developing their magic and their own sense of what is right or wrong until they become stable, until they tame the seed of evil and hunger that Satan plants in all of them when he gives them power to a level that is right for each of them. But what if by then his soul is too tainted to even know what’s right anymore? He’s afraid to lose control and then himself… he’s afraid to become what his nightmares show him.

But he’d be lying if he said he isn’t tempted to. His family seems alright, they resist temptation enough to know their limits but give in enough to live fulfilling lives. They’ve found a balance within themselves. Castiel wants to be one of them, he wants to fit in and live with them by their side, equals, a real family, not just penpals. If they can control the darkness within them, why shouldn’t he be able too? If he’s supposed to be more powerful than them, he should also be able to draw his limits. 

“You said  _ three _ spirits visited you?” Gabe suddenly asks as they’re walking up the steps leading to the house, distracting Cas from his existential crisis.

“Yes, why?”

“Hmm… Must be the Sanderson sisters. They were burned many years ago for witchcraft, not far from here. They were very powerful witches. They seduced men,  _ married  _ men, to show the vows of love that forged their marriages were fake. They got a kick out of proving that lust and power are more powerful desires than love. They were successful for the most part until they failed and murdered the man’s wife out of spite. Turns out he was a hunter and he burned them. It’s the typical good versus evil tale. What’s weird is I was sure all spirits in town were tamed... I guess something woke them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gifs: from tumblr accounts, as per usual  
> First one: downey-junior  
> Second one: thepumpkin-queenn  
> Third one: ramscurtiscobain


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one guys.  
> Hold on to your butts.

“I don’t understand why you like him. Is it another self-destruction thing?”

“ _What?_ No!”

“You do that a lot.”

Once again Dean is taken aback by his little brother's profound understanding of him and his deep insights. Sam’s never afraid to call him out on his bullshit or toxic behaviour, especially when it is harmful to Dean. It’s not like Dean’s not aware of them, at least most of the time, but he is pretty sure this time around being into Cas is not because he’s sabotaging himself. In the past, he used to put up with a lot for the sake of getting some human contact, some so called _friends_ , but this time it’s different. There’s something about Cas… scratch that, there are _many_ things about Cas floating around in Dean’s head.

First of all, Dean has got two eyes attached to a brain and things are simple when it comes to Cas: he is about one of the most handsome guy Dean’s ever met. Even when he’s not smiling, there’s something mature and elegant about him that Dean finds very attractive. He moves with grace and carries himself with confidence. His facial features are distinct and beautiful, his eyes are a hypnotizing sea of blue. When smell, almost shy smiles pull at the corner of his lips, Dean gets a glimpse of his sweet nature. His full lips look enjoyable to kiss and Dean shivers and feels the heat rising in his body when he imagines what it would be like to run his fingers through Castiel’s dark hair, pulling softly as they kiss passionately. It’s easy to let his imagination run wild when Cas is his partner in his daydreams. Castiel is clearly loaded and dresses well but makes no show of it unlike Bela, who was flashy and proud. Dean suspects Castiel is like wine; he will get only better with age, more and more handsome. If in 15 years he becomes some sexy university professor who wears blazers to his classes and has half of his class falling madly in love with him, he would not be surprised at all. 

But Dean’s not only interested in Castiel’s looks. Normally, when he’s not mad at Dean for who knows what, he has this serene and soft personality that is unique and refreshing. Even though he can tell Castiel’s more quiet when he’s around, little by little he gets to know him a little better. Cas is sensitive and well-mannered, but he’s shown he can also be assertive and basically a badass without having to be violent or get into a fight. He’s stood up to the school bully to defend someone he’s not even on good terms with just because it was the right thing to do. He is mostly unfamiliar with popular movies and TV shows, also modern music, which Dean finds curious, but in exchange he is the type of guy who has a lot of knowledge on loads of other subjects, including weird ones; he’s someone who can pull out a fun fact out of the hat at any given moment. Cas is clearly very smart and well-read but doesn’t think himself better than anyone else for it. He’s fascinating, Dean never knows what he’s going to say next. He’s unique and interesting, even when he’s quiet and secretive. Also, judging by what he’s heard from others, Cas is a fiercely loyal friend and a naturally kindhearted person… just not with Dean, for some reason.

All of the above is exactly why it’s so frustrating that there’s something that keeps them from being friends, because Dean would love to get to know him better. The worst part is not knowing _what_ exactly is the matter, why Castiel thinks they’re better off staying away from each other. Cas is generally very private for reasons that are totally unknown, there are things he keeps hidden even from those who are closest to him, and also sometimes he’s rude to Dean because of it. However, Dean’s sure that he didn’t imagine the other blushing when they looked into each other’s eyes that day Roman punched him. It was there, clear in those blue eyes; reciprocated attraction. He is civilized with Dean when others are around which leads him to believe Castiel doesn’t have a _personal_ problem with him (how could he?, they barely know each other). It all comes down again to this secret (or several) that Castiel hides from everybody, not just Dean, even before the Winchesters returned to the town, a secret the Novaks guard with jealousy. Dean really, _really_ wants to know what it is all about and how it related to his own family.

For better or for worse, Dean realizes he’s harvesting a crush in Cas. It’s not a self-destructive thing this time around though, but it’s obviously not in his best interest either since Castiel doesn’t even want them to be friends. Though he argues with himself that it can’t be crush, that they don’t know each other enough, he knows what he feels and cannot deny it. He tells himself he’s just idolizing the Castiel he always imagined coming back to but somehow he knows that’s just not it either. It’s something unlike he’s ever felt before, it’s like a calling or a pull or gravity that leads him to Cas.

Dean shakes his head and rolls his eyes, but he’s serious when he answers his brother’s concerns. “It’s not a self-destructive thing, Sam. Look, putting all the secrets and mysteries aside and also the times when he’s sort of a dick to me, he’s not a bad guy. Something is _making_ him act like this and I just—I feel like there’s something bigger here. Like we were meant to come back and I was meant to see him again. Maybe to help him.”

Sam lifts an eyebrow and crosses his arms over his chest, trying not to look smug but failing. “So like, what, it’s your destiny or something?”

“I don’t know, man,” Dean shrugs, perfectly aware that he sounds crazy but things have been nothing _but_ crazy since they arrived, “but you’ve got to admit our whole life has been weird and apparently, it runs in the family. _And_ in the Novaks’ too. Remember what mom wrote? That Castiel has something that she’s scared of, that made her afraid to let me play with him? Maybe that’s what he’s hiding, maybe there’s something about him that’s, I don’t know, dangerous in some way? And maybe he’s afraid I’ll find out because mom knew?”

“But how would you find out? It’s not like she left you explanations.”

“I don’t know…”

Chewing on his lower lip absentmindedly, Dean tries to come up with explanations. His hand goes up to touch the key hanging from the chain around his corner, hiding under his shirt. He pulls it out and twists it between his fingers.

“This key is important, I can feel it. Maybe… maybe when we find what opens the door, we’ll find the answers to some of our questions.”

“But you haven’t been able to find what it opens, right?” Sam asks, leaning forwards to take another look at the key. He’s known about it for quite some time but still takes a look at it every time he can since Dean rarely leaves it laying around or displays it in public. 

Dean sighs and shakes his head.

“Maybe you’ve been looking in the wrong places. You said you walked around town and looked in public places, right? But let us consider the facts. It’s a very rare key, very old, and if we’re right to assume that our ancestors were in some sort of secret society, then I doubt whatever it opens is going to be in plain sight. It probably opens something very old that’s hidden. Our family also built a lot of buildings around town. What if they….” Sam’s eyes suddenly light up and he sits up straight where he was leaning against the door of Dean’s closet in his bedroom, “what if they built _secret_ passages or something? Like secret rooms? For their weird secret society? That would be convenient, right? Mom’s key could open something like that, don’t you think?”

Far from telling his brother to tone down his conspiracy theories, Dean nods enthusiastically in agreement. “Whatever it is, I bet Castiel doesn’t want us to find it. Sam, what if… what if it’s true? What if his family were witches?”

“What if _Castiel_ is a witch, Dean?” Sam counters, all sense of fun gone from his face. Dean gives him a look like he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, so Sam continues, “what if they’re not good, Dean?”

“We’ve been over this, they were our allies!”

The brothers have connected some dots since Sam read the journal and they started discussing its content. They figured out that when the murders started, their grandfather took it upon himself to _hunt_ (just as Mary had written in her diary) the culprit as per the tradition they followed as protectors of the town. Judging by what they read, they also assumed Charles was somehow trying to help Samuel, at least that is until he left.

“ _Charles_ was their ally. Castiel grew up without their parents, all alone with Gabriel. Mom barely knew him so we basically don’t know much about him. What if he’s evil and taught Castiel some sort of dark magic? I mean, Charles left and soon after Clarice disappeared, right under Gabriel’s nose.”

“You shouldn't go around implying what I know you’re implying,” Dean contests his brother’s theory with some degree of heat in his voice. “You have no proof.”

“I’m just saying, Dean, it’s a possibility. And if they are evil, what are we going to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we’re Campbells. The responsibility to protect the town falls on us, right?”

“Wow, wow, wow, Sam,” Dean starts, a bit alarmed, holding his hands up in front of him, “ _you’re_ not doing anything, okay? You’re like, still a child. If your ass gets hurt, it’s on _me_.”

“Oh, because you’re an adult now,” Sam argues, narrowing his eyes at Dean.

“I’m the oldest,” Dean points out stubbornly, “so if we’re going to revive this weird ass secret society, I’m in charge. And I say, if the Novaks honour their side of the peace treaty, so do we. I mean, come on, do you see any signs of dark magic? Nothing’s happened in years.”

“Except we all started having crazy nightmares the moment we arrived and you had a lot of strange accidents happening to you for a while. Not to mention the annoying and inexplicable things happening at home. Don’t you think that kind of fits the profile?”

Dean is quiet for a moment as he considers that. He can’t deny he’s already thought about it, he’s wondered if it could be that Castiel had something to do with all those weird unfortunate events he went through, just like Dick Roman… but that would mean he’s _actually_ considering the possibility that Castiel Novak is a _real_ witch. This isn’t about playing Nancy Drew anymore, this isn’t about getting close to his mom by checking books on occultism out of the library, this is dabbling into the supernatural, for real.

“Sam…” Unable to _not_ feel stupid as he says it out loud, he holds his breath for a second as he asks his little brother, “but are we _actually_ considering they’re witches? For real, no joke, old school _real_ witches?”

The Winchester brothers stare at each other as if the other can provide the answer to that question. They’re both torn, especially Sammy, who’s usually much more rational about things compared to Dean, the most emotional and impulsive out of the two of them. It’s crazy, it’s stupid, it’s _impossible…_ and yet they’re both considering it.

“We need evidence. We need to find what that door opens, I bet that’ll give us some answers,” Sam concludes. He hesitates for a second but then, more gently, he adds, “and you need to be careful, Dean. Just in case, okay?”

“He’s not going to hurt me, Sam.”

“Dean—”

Holding up his hands in defeat, Dean rolls his eyes and agrees, “fine, I’ll be careful!”

Satisfied, Sam gets to his feet. He goes to the window and closes it; the wind outside has picked up dramatically and soon it’ll start to rain, probably heavily.

“Do you think they’ve got anything to do with the weather?” he wonders out loud as he watches the dark clouds gathering. “The weather here is crazy.”

Before getting an answer, Sam walks out of Dean’s room muttering something about homework. Dean sits up and walks over to the window. As he looks up at the sky he does wonder if the weird, sudden storms are caused by the Novaks. If so, they must be very powerful.

“That’d be super cool,” he whispers as he imagines Cas summoning storms. Instead of finding that potentially problematic or frightening, he thinks it would only make Castiel more of a badass.

Once the idea is planted in his head, Dean indulges the theory. The next week, coincidentally, is a very stormy one. Every evening is plagued by persistent rain that is completely ruining the grass in their front lawn and thunders that wake them up in the middle of the night. Thursday even reports a small tornado outside of town, harmless but still somewhat frightening considering the farmers that lived around the place had never seen one before. The rest of the day is permanently cloudy and drizzling. Wednesday is the one day where they get a break and the sun comes out—shyly and barely but it does. Dean can’t help but notice that’s the same day Castiel has plans with Garth after school; it’s also notably the _only_ day Cas seems to do something with a friend after school.

During the week Castiel keeps trying to avoid showing any signs that he likes Dean but, much to his delight, Dean still manages to steal a smile or two when Cas is distracted enough to forget he’s not supposed to laugh at Dean’s jokes. From this Dean guesses Cas must find him somewhat tolerable, he’s just playing hard to get or going against his own instincts. This makes Dean want to try something: pushing Castiel’s buttons. Which, after giving it some actual thought, may not be a good idea because he suspects Cas is a powerful witch but Dean’s always been recklessly adventurous and prone to do stupid things, so he goes on despite having promised Sam he’d keep out of trouble. What he does is harmless anyway, he just wants to see how Castiel reacts to Dean’s charm.

The first thing he does is a very simple technique Dean uses to catch people’s attention when he wants it. He sits next to him on purpose on Thursday which throws Castiel off from the start. Up until then, they had a tacit agreement to sit on opposite ends of the table, as far away from each other as possible, even if Dean wasn’t trying to avoid him. So that day when Dean sits next to him, leaving no space between them, with the sides of their legs pressed against each other, Cas throws him a bewildered look, a silent _what the hell._ Fully aware that Dean knows they’re supposed to ignore each other as best as the situation allows, Cas silently frowns at him, telepathically trying to convey the many questions in his head. In response, Dean just licks his bottom lip and then bites it before giving Cas an innocent bright smile. Castiel follows every move of his mouth and then quickly averts his eyes, adopting a rigid posture with an elbow on the table and his chin resting on his hand, his mouth covered by his first. He looks tense, Dean tries not to laugh. There’s something else there, something besides that weird idea that they’re better off staying away from each other, that puts Castiel’s panties in a twist when he’s around Dean… and Dean has to say, he kind of likes it.

Lunch is pretty much business as usual except that Dean keeps moving his leg (on purpose, obviously), knocking his knee against Castiel’s, who tries to shuffle away from him discreetly but there’s just barely any space left. At one point Benny asks if they want to go to a party at his cousin’s place; she lives one town over and her parents are going to be gone for a few days to celebrate their anniversary. It’s nothing too big, he says, but he promises some degree of fun. Dean offers to drive them. They all agree except for Cas, who doesn’t seem to be listening.

“What do you say, Cas?” Dean asks as he lets his hand abruptly fall in Castiel’s thigh, then squeezes the muscle under his fingers gently. It’s stronger than he’d imagined. 

Two things happen simultaneously; Cas jumps off his skin as if Dean had electrocuted him and the fire protection sprinkler system in the room goes off. Students cry out as the bitterly cold water rains over their heads, clothes and food. They all shuffle to their feet, almost causing an stampede out the doors. Cas groans, then throws Dean an angry look like it’s all his fault, cheeks undoubtedly burning red with embarrassment. He hugs his backpack in a poor attempt to protect it from the water and follows his friends out of the building, hurrying to get as far away as possible from the newest addition of the team.

The next day he pushes Castiel’s buttons again during PE. Because of that week’s persistent rain, the grounds are basically one giant puddle so they work out inside in the gym. The large room is terribly ventilated. The persistent heat of the early autumn combined with the humidity caused by the rain has the students sweating like pigs. When they’re asked to pair up with each other for some exercises, Dean makes a beeline for Cas who obviously tries to avoid him but isn’t able to reach Benny or Garth before the two of them pair up with each other. 

Before Dean has a chance to say anything, Castiel points a finger at him and says, “don’t even think about it.”

Dean holds his arms out and with a triumphant, shit-eating grin, he says, “look around you, there’s no one left but me.”

Cas obviously wants to protest, maybe ask one of his friends to switch places with him even if it makes him look like a childish idiot, but Benny’s already on the floor doing abs while Garth holds his ankles down. 

The coach blows his whistle and yells at them. “Winchester, Novak, are we here to chat or are we here to sweat?”

Dean can’t help but laugh at the frustration in Castiel’s face. 

“Come on, I’ll go first,” Dean offers. He sits down on the floor, Cas reluctantly following suit and kneeling down in front of him. Just to fuck with him, Dean decides to take his shirt off, green eyes always watching those blue ones who do their best to stay away from him, not before failing to resist one quick look at Dean’s naked skin. Dean knows he looks good; not Hollywood-amazing, not like you could wash clothes with his abs, but good enough for his age and lack of interest in fitness, and definitely enough to bring out some colour in Castiel’s cheeks.

Castiel holds his ankles down and awkwardly keeps his eyes locked on Dean’s shoes like his life depends on it with a pained expression in his face. Dean has to hold back laughter. It’s possibly the only time in his life that Dean actually enjoys doing abs. If he tries to flex a little to impress Cas, sue him. This is Dean’s way of getting back at Cas for being a jerk and, in his opinion, he’s getting off pretty easily.

“I’d put my shirt back if I were you, Winchester,” Roman’s partner calls out from a few meters away. Rom shoots him a warning look and Dean remembers what Charlie told him about Dick being somewhat afraid of Castiel. “Don’t you know he’s a—”

Dick, who was laying on the ground doing his abs, sits up and shoves his friend. “Cut it out,” he orders through gritted teeth but Dean doubts it’s out of the kindness of his heart. 

Castiel smiles to himself, pleased by Dick’s reaction, _enjoying_ the other’s fear.

“He’s a what, Scott?” the gym teacher challenges him, arms crossed over his chest, an absolutely unamused and hard expression on his face.

Scott opens his mouth and closes it, at a loss for words.

“That’s what I thought. Watch it or I’ll send you straight to detention.”

Dean snorts at the other’s stupidity and sits up. Cas locks eyes with him for just a second and they’re smiling, not at each other, not really, but they also kind of are.

“I don’t mind, you know?” Dean says low enough that only Cas can hear him.

Cas frowns and narrows his eyes at him, waiting for an explanation. It’s Dean’s time to blush as he’s under the scrutiny of those piercing blue eyes. He doesn’t know why but he feels compelled to tell Castiel something he rarely ever shares with people. Maybe it’s just the way Cas looks at him, like he can’t help but be attracted to him even if he’s set on not being friends. Maybe Dean hopes something will happen between them even if Cas keeps rejecting him. Perhaps Sam _is_ right after all and he’s being self-destructive, chasing after Cas, a reckless and unrequited crush, just because he doesn’t want to let go of the fantasies he had before he returned to his hometown. If Cas could just _honestly_ look at him with disgust it would make things so much easier for Dean. 

Dean’s not sure what his goal is anymore because it surely isn’t to mess with Cas when he says, “I like… guys… too.”

Far from surprised, Castiel just lifts an eyebrow and responds by asking him, “why are you telling me this?”

Unable to find an answer, Dean just stares back at him and does a one-shoulder awkward shrug.

Weirded out by the interaction, Castiel lets go of his ankles and lays down on the floor. He doesn't even wait for Dean to hold him steady before he starts doing abs in complete silence.

He’s lost in thoughts for the rest of the day, wondering about Dean. He sits on the porch watching the heavy rain pour down all around them except for a large circle surrounding their house. The sky above him is dark with thick clouds as it has been for most of the week. It’s his doing but this time it’s done on purpose. Eyes closed, he feels his magic work around him. As he lets it out, he feels more in control of it than ever. He’s the conductor of an orchestra of thunders. He is master of the sky, flooding the crops of those who wrong him, like Scott’s family, and keeping the entire town submerged in almost constant darkness. The storm extends to towns nearby and from afar Cas can still control it, still feels the strings he’s pulling. The further away the storm travels, the more powerful Castiel feels, as if it were a part of himself raining down on every household. He’s above them, for once, he’s in control, no longer confined to do magic in secret in his family’s land. He’s everywhere now, without them knowing. It’s harmless and they’re in the dark, they have no clue it’s him… but _he_ knows and that’s enough.

He wonders how far he could make the storm spread out. Maybe the entire state. With enough practice, perhaps the entire country. 

As Dean comes into his mind, his concentration wavers. 

A drop of water falls in his forehead. Cas groans and wipes his skin with the back of his hand.

Frustrating, he finds Dean so frustrating. So damn obstinate. So infuriating. So distracting.

He’s got to admit, he’s tempted to buy what Dean seems to be offering. Dean’s done it before, offering himself like a piece of meat to those he wants to impress. Castiel has seen this behaviour before in memories the mirror showed him. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad to give in. After all, physical gratification is another thing witches strongly aim for, something that Satan preaches. He could use Dean to explore, to learn, to finally satisfy those urges he’s been bottling up. Maybe if he got a taste of Dean Cas would finally stop fantasizing about him when his mind wanders. And when he’s done with him, perhaps then Dean will hate him enough to stay away from him at last.

But could Cas really do that to him?

Two drops fall on his head. One lands on his eyelid. Stupidly, he blinks and gets the water on his eye.

“Ouch,” he mutters as he rubs his eye.

As he opens his eyes, he sees the three figures standing just outside the gate, unperturbed by the rain. One of the girls lazily raises a hand and waves at him slowly. It’s a disturbing sight. Even as he tries to ignore them and concentrate on keeping his surroundings dry he can feel their gaze on him.

After a while Gabriel swings the door open and yells at him, “enough with the rain, Cas! You’re depressing me!”

As Castiel turns to look at his brother, he responds, “you were the one who told me to explore my magic!”

“Well, think of something else!”

Castiel rolls his eyes as Gabriel slams the door close. As he gets up to his feet, he throws a glance in the direction of the gate. The three sisters are gone.

He spends the rest of the evening trying not to think of Dean and instead trying to come up with a non-violent yet interesting spell he could try next. He could punish people, someone with real authority who deserves to be humbled. He could try necromancy, maybe, speaking to the dead and learning their secrets. Or he could fuck with the catholic church who haunted his people for centuries, burned them alive. He could bring justice in the shape of vengeance for the witches of back then. In his dreams he sees the sisters again and this time, when they whisper things in his ear, he listens to them, to their ideas.

Most of the Saturday morning and afternoon is spent in the secret library, digging up summoning spells and reading about necromancy. Gabe comes in once or twice to remind him to get something to eat. He seems slightly concerned but tries to hide it, tries to give him his space. After all, he was the one who told him to give him a reason to get grounded.

Around 7 p.m., Gabe makes one more appearance.

“Cas,” he starts, sounding annoyed, “your friends are here.”

Cas, incredulous, asks, “what do you mean?”

“I mean, your friends are outside, genius. What else could I _possibly_ mean?” Gabe shakes his head at him like he’s an idiot. “Now get out there and don’t forget to close this door,” he adds, knocking on the wood of the secret door leading into their little library with the back of his fingers.

Rather reluctantly, Cas sighs and puts down his books. The books find their way back into the shelves on their own as Castiel marches out of the room. He prefers not to leave them laying around so Gabe won’t know what he’s up to for sure. It’s not that he’s keeping secrets or planning anything drastic, but he’d rather have his space and privacy to explore his skills.

Standing awfully close to the door he finds Garth, Benny and Charlie waiting for him. Charlie looks around in awe and curiosity, taking in everything that she can about the house. Benny seems slightly wary but trying to hide it so as to not offend his friend while Garth just studies the portraits from afar with interest. Oddly enough, Cas can’t help but notice he seems rather relaxed inside the house which is most unusual. 

The three of them all snap to attention when Cas walks into the room.

“I didn’t know you liked art,” Garth comments with a lazy smile on his face.

“I… don’t,” Cas responds, taken aback. “Those have been here for decades.”

“Is that what you’re wearing?” Benny asks carefully as he looks his friend up and down.

Castiel looks down at his clothes as if he’d forgotten what he was wearing; pyjamas, he’s been in his pyjamas all day.

He lifts an eyebrow, utterly confused by the question and their presence at his house in the first place.

“Well… yes?”

“You need to change,” Charlie all but demands, then winks at him and says, “Inias is coming tonight.”

Instantly, Castiel blushes and checks the room to see if Gabe is around; thankfully, he’s not. 

Inias was the guy Cas _almost_ slept with but then chickened out at the last minute. He never really knew quite why. Inias was agreeable, willing and fairly good looking. But when they made out there was just something missing, that spark that should make someone want to go all the way. Or maybe he was just a chicken or he wasn’t ready or it wasn’t meant to be. 

“Where? What are you talking about? What are you guys doing here?”

Charlie narrows her eyes at him and crosses her arms over her chest, staring at him with that face that warns Castiel that she’s taking no bullshit, not tonight. “Did you forget we’re going out or are you playing dumb ‘cause Dean’s driving us?”

“Dean’s here?”

Castiel darts to the window, moving the curtains to the side. Indeed, parked just outside the gates, is Dean’s car. Before he has the time to even react, Benny is urging him away from the window by the shoulders, pushing him towards the stairs.

“Go get changed, we’ll wait for you…” He glances around the house, at the spooky dark hallways upstairs, and quickly adds, “in the car.”

“But—”

“No buts!”

“Unless it’s _Inias'_ butt!” Charlie adds and looks around waiting for her friends to laugh.

Benny just shakes his head. “That didn’t even make sense, Bradbury.”

Faking being offended, she rolls her eyes and heads out the door. “You have no sense of humour.”

“Nice house, Cas,” Garth adds with a smile as he follows the other two out the door. Castiel watches him leave, suspicious of the lack of effect the house seems to have on him.

With their friends gone, Castiel stands at the bottom of the stairs for a second, not sure what to do next. He wants to get out of this but at the same time he knows he can’t.

Gabe, who Cas realizes was probably listening from the kitchen, walks into the room and says, “well? Go change, little brother.”

“I was kind of hoping you’d tell them I am grounded or something and I can’t go.”

“No, no, no,” Gabe replies, shaking his head and moving to start pushing Cas up the stairs. “You’RE going out with your friends, Cas. You’ve spent _way_ too much time home lately with your nose buried in books. You’re a witch, not a scholar. Now go out and have some fun. You can’t let that hunter boy steal your place. Now go get yourself some Inias.”

Castiel groans. “You heard that?”

Gabriel smirks playfully, never missing a chance to embarrass his brother. “Of course I did. I approve, go get deflowered, baby bro. Satan would want you to.”

“Oh, Satan!” Cas exclaims, cringing and hurrying away down the hallway.

“You get points for defiling a Christian, just keep that in mind!” Gabe shouts from somewhere in the house. “And remember to use protection!”

“Stop talking to me about sex!”

At this point Castiel hurries to dress up and leave just to get away from Gabriel and the witchy version of the sex talk. It’s happened before, versions of it, and Cas doesn’t ever want to be advised to take part in an orgy. He doesn’t really care what he’s wearing as he’s not really interested in pursuing Inias that night, so he just grabs the first pair of pants he finds and a white shirt, then flees the house as he rolls up his sleeves a few times.

“Looking good, Cas,” Dean tells him as Cas gets in the back of the car with Benny and Garth.

Without enthusiasm Cas mutters a dry thanks. He can’t deny there’s something about being complimented by a handsome person like Dean that does things to Castiel’s ego. Dean’s one of those beautiful people who you just know will only keep getting more and more gorgeous as they grow up, probably effortlessly. It would be awesome if Cas wasn’t so damn attracted to him, like he imagines most mortals with two eyes and a brain cell must be. Dean’s perfect tanned skin, white straight teeth, great jawline and model-like smile are almost offensive to Cas.

Charlie turns on her seat to look at him. “Did you dress up for Inias?”

“Did you dress up for Gilda?” Cas retorts.

She beams, jumping up and down with excitement in her seat. “You’re damn right I did.”

“Who are Gilda and Inias again?” Dean asks.

“Gilda is Charlie’s crush and Inias is Castiel’s,” Garth responds automatically.

“He’s _not_ my crush,” Castiel corrects him quickly, accidentally locking eyes with Dean through the rearview mirror as he does. If Cas didn’t know better he’d say Dean looks pleased by the correction.

Castiel doesn’t get Dean at all. The lingering stares, the bright smiles, the compliments... It took him a while to notice because Cas is just really bad at that sort of thing, but he’s come to realize that Dean’s either flirting with him or pretending to. Why would he do either, though? To piss him off? To try and coax a reaction out of him? If so, to what ex? Does he think he’s got a better chance at getting close to him by flirting? Then again Dean could actually, for some amazing and crazy reason, be into him which would be both flattering and unfortunate. But it doesn’t make sense, not with the way Cas has been treating him. Why would Dean like _him_ , of all people? Dean could have anyone he wanted, with time, after the effects and consequences of Castiel’s curse fade away and are forgotten with time while Dean integrates into their community. He got _Bella’s_ attention, that’s saying something. So why does he try so hard with Cas? Is he a prize to win or something?

“Alright, then. Let’s go!” Dean beams and starts driving.

They don’t drive for long but being cooped up in that car while his friends chat avidly with each other while he stares out the window, it feels like an eternity for Cas. The introvert he is, he hadn’t mentally prepared for this outing, he’d honestly completely forgotten all about it. He had more important things to think of, in his defence, like dark magic and evil spirits that follow him around, whispering things to him seducing him into the dark side of witchcraft. They have more _intense_ suggestions of what Cas could be doing with him magic, not necessarily evil but bolder for sure. He ignores them, for the most part, hoping that they’ll get discouraged and disappear. That approach doesn’t seem to be working. 

Oh, and he’s also having nightmares about the apocalypse almost every night now. The focus has changed though, he doesn’t see himself from afar anymore; now he’s gone from being an spectator to having the leading role. He doesn’t do particularly bad things but what’s alarming is he has started to feel what his apocalypse-version feels. The power, the immense amount of power that stretches endlessly over the world—the massive _graveyard—_ he now rules. The strange, calm hollowness inside him. He’s at peace in a way he would have never imagined it. He doesn't feel guilty or lost anymore, he doesn’t have to hide or apologize for his magic. He’s not a grieving mess, he doesn’t kneel down and begs for forgiveness. This version of himself has fully embraced what he became. He doesn’t see himself as a monster, a murderer of mortals, but a leader and freer of witches. This Castiel has lost his humanity and now belongs only to Hell. He walks through the palaces of Hell, welcomed by each and every demon King. He is loved by his people and feared by whatever unlucky humans still remain. He stands next to Satan in his throne, his proud right hand, at home there in shadows and flames.

The worst and most worrying part… is that he kind of gets it. Humans have ruled this world for so long and they’re destroying it. They killed countless of Castiel’s kind and even their own, but _they_ are the evil ones? Cas hates those double standards. Not to mention his kind is more devoted and faithful to their ways than humans, who preach to all who will listen and those who don’t want to as well but rarely ever follow their own teachings. Why shouldn’t they rule for once? Why can’t they be free? Maybe it doesn’t have to be all apocalypse and destruction, maybe he could find a way to bring the two worlds together if he’s really as powerful as people say he is.

“You okay, Cas?” Charlie asks him as she eyes him curiously through the side-view mirror.

“Yeah, just thinking.”

“About?”

Cas just shakes his head tiredly. He wishes he could talk to someone about it, someone other than Gabe or his grandmother, but it’s a burden he’s got to carry by himself. “Nothing… I’ve just been having a lot of nightmares.”

“Still?”

“I was having a lot of nightmares too,” Dean tells him, joining a conversation Cas thought he was only having with Charlie, not aware that someone else was paying attention, “but then I,” he chuckles, “I did this thing—this _spell_. I kind of swear it worked. No nightmares ever since.”

Benny snorts. “You did _a spell_?”

Castiel feels something drop in his stomach. “What spell?” he asks, just barely keeping his concern concealed.

“It’s a protection spell. What was it called? Something like the seal of… hmmm... San...ax?”

“Xanax?” Charlie asks.

Dean laughs with all his body. “No, not the drug. Like a seal, like magic.”

“Sabnack?” Castiel offers.

“Yeah, that one!” Dean beams, apparently happy to have Cas not just responding to him but also offering something first for once.

Castiel swallows hard; that’s powerful magic, the dark seals are not things to play with. The fact that Dean can summon a demon’s strength and channel it into a seal of protection without even being aware of what he’s really doing proves that he is, indeed, a powerful hunter. It’s in his blood, it has been for generations. For the first time he really understands Gabriel’s preoccupation. Dean’s smarter and more dangerous than he seems.

Trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, he then asks the hunter, “what else do you know how to do?”

In response Dean just lifts an eyebrow and looks at him weird through the rearview mirror. “Nothing, Cas. I was kidding. I guess it was just all in my head.”

“Oh, yes, of course…” Cas trails off as he sits back and looks out the window again.

He really wishes he’d stayed home, now he’s trapped at a house party with a bloody hunter.

Benny’s cousin doesn’t let things go wild, the party seems laid back and contained to a level of close friends only, for the most part. There is no music blasting through stereos so loud that it’ll bother the neighbours, there’s no keg, no wild amount of alcohol, no couples wandering up to the bedrooms upstairs. There are about a dozen more people in the party apart from Castiel’s group, including Inias who awkwardly purses his lips into a thin line, the corners of his lips curving up in a smile, when he sees Castiel coming in. He waves at him from a distance to which Cas just responds by nodding in acknowledgement and quickly heading the other away. He’s mortified by the memories of their failed encounter and would rather not have to see him again to spare himself the constant remainder and embarrassment.

They’ve met most of Elizabeth’s (Benny’s cousin) friends before so when the group comes in Benny takes it upon himself to introduce Dean to everyone while Cas, Charlie and Garth simply wave at those in the living room and head to the kitchen to say hello to some other guests and grab drinks. Castiel is mostly just following them, glad to have a break from Dean and Inias who at the time are in the same room. Talking to each other. Which for some reason weirds him out.

There are only two bottles of alcohol available for the entire party and _a lot_ of sodas to mix them with. Gilda is in charge of mixing drinks, or at least trying to, and Charlie offers herself as guinea pig. For a while Castiel actually forgets about his whole high school and apocalypse drama and has fun watching Charlie try weird drinks for the sake of entertaining her crush who at some point just has to be messing with Charlie because the drinks get weirder and weirder with their ingredients. The girls dance around each other, flirting back and forth like they’re both aware of what’s going on but have no hurry to get down to business, they’re just enjoying the ride. Castiel kind of envies that, the easiness with which they interact and gravitate around each other. It’s obvious that there’s something there between them, blossoming. He wishes things were as simple as that for once for him too.

Eventually he excuses himself and drags Garth along with him to leave the girls alone. In the living room people are sitting on the couch and pillows on the floor, some drinking Gilda’s weird mixed drinks, others playing it safe with soda, while everyone enjoys the snacks. They’re in a big circle. In the middle, in a cleared space, there are several cups with different liquids inside and Benny, Dean and two other girls are playing ‘beer’ pong. Dean’s crushing Benny.

“Oh, great, our driver is getting drunk,” Castiel points out accusingly as he sits on the floor close to Benny. Unfortunately that also means sitting close to Inias but that’s the price he pays to sit further away from Dean.

Dean looks up as he says that, his previous happy expression faltering. “It’s mostly soda,” he defends himself.

Before he has the time to argue, Benny says in a reproachful tone, “actually, Garth offered to drive us back home, Cas. _Remember_?”

Feeling everyone’s attention on them, even if they’re not really looking at them, Cas shifts awkwardly in his place and hugs his knees closer to his chest. “Oh. No, I don’t remember that.”

“Yeah, you’ve been really distracted,” Benny says, copying Cas’ previous tone of accusation before he turns around to continue with his game. He sounds slightly annoyed, something that’s never happened between them before.

The exchange leaves Castiel feeling like an asshole. He locks eyes with Dean again, who doesn’t seem to entirely forgive and forget the other’s unfair attack but also doesn’t try to continue the argument when he could easily demand that Cas apologizes. Dean doesn’t want to cause a scene and for that Castiel’s grateful. 

Feeling weird towards Benny in that moment, Cas shuffles away after a while. He joins a conversation between Charlie, Gilda and two of her friends, Victor and Pamela. Truth be told, he finds it refreshing to talk to people other than his own friends. They don’t talk about Dean Winchester or their high school drama, he doesn’t have to hide from people who barely even know him in the first place, doesn’t have to make up intricate lies about his life and keep up with them. They talk about college for the most part and what they want to do after school. He’s glad to hear Charlie’s still set on applying for the same schools he is and he keeps his fingers crossed that they’ll get to study in the same place…

 _If_ he even goes on to do something as trivial as get a degree. With the door of hell closed, he had always assumed the next obvious step for him would be to go to college, like a lot of normal mortal kids do, but what if by the end of the school year the door is open? What would he do with his life? After all, if he is immortal in Hell, skipping a few years to learn actual magic in the underworld would be meaningless to him. Would he even go at all, _ever_? If he didn’t, what would he say to Charlie?

He can’t help but feel some sort of loss, of grief, at the thought of abandoning those plans he’d kept for years. The idea was to get a degree in Religious studies with a focus on witchcraft and occultism, to later become a professor and teach about it, to educate people and show them it wasn’t all about the devil’s work and killing people in weird rituals. He wanted to clear the name of his people.

Remembering what Benny said before with a pang of guilt, he tries to stay focused in the conversation instead of zoning out and getting lost in his thoughts. Inias joins the conversation, which snaps Cas into a momentary state of alert. He sits close to him but not close enough to make him uncomfortable. Soon it’s obvious that there’s no intention to flirt coming from either of them, which the witch is thankful for. Both boys appear to have tacitly reached an agreement that whatever happened between them didn’t work, wasn’t meant to be, and moved on to a comfortable friendship. It’s great because now Cas can actually enjoy Inias’ presence without feeling guilty for ruining things between them or scared to hurt his feelings.

As the hours go by and he relaxes in the merry, friendly atmosphere, the night turns out to be more enjoyable than he’d expected. He’s actually glad to be there. Cas feels normal and light and like he fits in. With all the people present, he barely has to interact with Dean. The anxiety he’d been carrying for a while now melts off his stiff shoulders and disappears into the back of his mind. He laughs, he actively participates in the conversations, he even drinks a little—very, _very_ diluted vodka with pepsi. The more he enjoys himself, the more he wonders why they don’t hang out with these kids more often. The answer probably is because none of them has a car or parents that will let them drive theirs. That is, of course, with the exception of Dean, the newest addition to their gang. He’s the gum in his shoes that Cas just can’t shake off but maybe he does come with perks after all.

Pamela is looking back and forth between Charlie and Gilda, who after a few hours have shuffled closer and closer. At this point even Cas, who normally has a hard time noticing these types of social cues, is wondering what the hell are the girls waiting for to make a move on each other. Suddenly, in a stroke of genius, Pamela grins a devilishly smile and not so innocently says, “we should do something stupid. Let’s play a game.”

Victor, a more serious person, lifts an eyebrow at Pamela like he knows she’s up to something. “What game?”

“Like spin the bottle?” Jo, who until that point wasn’t really talking to them, asks out of curiosity from the other side of the room.

“Sure,” Pamela grins, “but more spicy. How about spin the bottle meets 7 minutes in heaven?”

“Yes!” Charlie all but yells a little too excitedly. Cas can’t help but snort at her reaction.

As subtly as possible he leans to her side and whispers, “your crush is showing.”

Charlie in response just elbows him in the ribs, Cas laughs through the pain.

A few people seem hesitant and not really too into the idea, but Charlie, Pamela, Dean and Jo do a good job at hyping up most of the rest until they’re enough to play.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want, you wusses,” Pamela encourages them by being tough.

“I’ll get the bottle,” Cas offers, then darts quickly to the kitchen. 

There’s an empty bottle of vodka on the counter amongst many plastic ones of soda. He grabs it and quickly comes up with a simple, harmless little spell to help Charlie move things along with Gilda; if she doesn’t go for it while she’s in a closet with Gilda for seven minutes, then it’s never going to happen. Knowing how confident Charlie usually is, he’d be surprised if they don’t kiss. They just need to be alone together at the right time and Castiel can make that happen. And if someone else can also benefit from the spell and get seven minutes of privacy with their secret crush, then great too. Cas can make things interesting for everyone without them knowing, he can play matchmaker from the shadows.

The spell is such a minor thing he doesn’t even need to speak the words out loud. He grabs the bottle with intent and looks down at it, bewitching it with only the power of his thoughts.

_Let young love spread like wildfire,_

_point to the spinner’s truth heart’s desire._

Smiling to himself, happy to prove that magic can work good deeds even if he can’t tell anybody, he rejoins the rest in the living room. Most of the guests have formed a circle by then while Pamela helps Elizabeth clear some things from the closet by the entrance. The tiny room is actually pretty deep—for a closet. There’s undoubtedly an air of almost childish excitement and anticipation amongst them now. Cas can’t help but notice Jo looking over at Dean way too often while he speaks in low voices with Benny. The two of them seem to be quickly becoming very close friends.

The young witch makes a beeline for his best friend and offers her the bottle.

“I say you go first,” he declares.

Charlie gladly takes the bottle from him. “You heard the man!” she agrees at once.

“Don’t start without us!” Pamela shouts over her shoulder. “Wait a sec!”

Pamela and Elizabeth orderly lay the coats that were on the closet on the back of the couch and pile up whatever was on the sides and the floor in a corner of the entrance. When the closet has been emptied, Elizabeth makes a quick escape towards the kitchen and in a second she’s back with a flashlight that she leaves standing up, pointing towards the ceiling, inside the closet.

Deans snaps his fingers and grins at her, “good thinking! Now come on, ladies and gentlemen, let’s do this.”

When everyone has taken their place, Charlie sets the bottle on the ground, holding it in place as close to the middle of the circle as possible. She’s fighting back a smile. Knowing what’s about to happen, Castiel smiles too, happy for her. Charlie spins the bottle, from the corner of his eye Cas sees Gilda hold her breath in anticipation. The bottle starts to slow down and when it finally stops, the thinner end pointing towards her, she just cannot disguise her delight. Their friends erupt in cheers, whistling at them, lightheartedly teasing the girls as they walk together towards the closet.

Elizabeth walks over to the stereo and briefly pauses the music. “When the music’s over, your time’s up!” she tells the girls before they go into the closet and she turns the music back on, louder this time. 

“Well, ain’t that a match made in heaven,” Benny laughs cheerfully.

“It’s like the bottle knew,” Jo jokes. 

Castiel laughs and sits back with his hands on the floor supporting his weight, mentally patting himself on the back,

 _Oh, the bottle_ knew _, alright._

“Well, they better speed things along, dammit,” Pamela complains half-heartedly. “All I hear is Charlie this, Charlie that. It was about time they hooked up.”

“Amen,” Garth agrees.

“You guys should come more often, this is fun,” Inias says, his eyes falling in Cas. He smiles at him in that way he used to before, in a way that means something _more_.

It snaps the witch into attention.

_Oh, shit, not again!_

Just when he thought they were moving past their previous awkwardness into the friend zone, Inias was just apparently getting ready to give it another go. As usual, Cas has read the situation completely wrong. Castiel can hardly blame him; it’s not like there are a lot of other boys their age Inias can pick from but why, _why_ would Inias still be into him when things clearly did not work out the first time around?

“We’ve got a sweet ride this time,” Benny says, patting Dean on the shoulder, “so you bet you’ll be seeing more of us.”

“That Impala outside is yours?” Arthur asks. He looks impressed for the first time Cas has ever seen.

“Yep,” Dean declares proudly.

The next minutes are spent talking loudly, sharing drinks and snacks, and counting down the minutes until Charlie and Gilda have to exit the closet together. A few of them eye the bottle like they want to go for it next. Inias is one of them and Cas all but curses under his breath. He can’t break the curse until he touches the object again and at the moment Pamela keeps it under her clutches. As long as Inias doesn’t get his hands on it, Castiel should be spared from seven very awkward minutes trapped in a closet with him.

When Elizabeth eventually stops the music and the girls walk out and rejoin them in the circle, the group claps and cheers as the girls blush furiously, though Charlie proudly holds Gilda’s hand as they sit down.

“About time!” Pamela says, throwing her arms out teasingly. “My turn now.”

Before anyone can protest, she spins the bottle. Surprisingly for Cas, it lands on Benny who doesn't look too bothered by the turn of events. Another round of teasing and cheers follows them to the closet, finishing with a, “use protection!”, from Jo.

In retrospect, Castiel wonders if it’s not a bit of a privacy breach to learn everyone’s secret crushes without them knowing but there’s really nothing he can do until he gets to touch the bottle again.

For seven minutes the party continues. A little anxiously, Cas keeps track of the bottle from the corner of his eye while he talks to Arthur, someone he’s not particularly fond of but is still a good conversationalist. Garth has the bottle now but he seems more interested in endlessly spinning it around and stopping it himself at random times than actually playing the game. Cas can’t help but be curious; to whom would the bottle point at if Garth took a turn? Invasion of privacy or not, he’d rather have Garth spin the bottle than Inias.

When the seven minutes are up, Pamela swings the closet door open and walks out with her chin up in pride and a satisfied little smirk on her lips. Benny stumbles out of the closet, his short hair rattled and sticking up in all directions, lips swollen. He has a bit of a shocked look in his eyes. A few of the guests burst out laughing at the sight.

“What the hell happened to you?” Dean laughs, not really expecting a response.

“What happens in the closet, stays in the closet,” Pamela responds and winks an eye at him.

“Alright, how’s next?” Charlie beams.

Garth stops spinning the bottle around and holds it in place with the tip of his fingers over it, glancing around in offering instead of trying to spin it for himself. Cas sees the exact moment when Inias decides it’s his turn and the young witch panics. Before he knows what he’s doing, he darts forwards and spins the bottle. 

“Wow, okay, eager much, Cas?” Charlie teases him, elbowing him playfully. 

Cheeks burning a strong shade of red, he turns to her and mutters, “shut up, Charlie.”

In response she just wiggles her eyebrows and giggles. Her eyes back on the bottle, they go wide like the moon and she pulls her mouth into a thin line to stop herself from laughing. With a sense of dread, his brain catching up with his actions, Cas turns back around to look down at the bottle.

It’s stopped spinning.

And it’s pointing at Dean.

“That’s impossible,” he thinks out loud, horrified.

Dean just shrugs, smiling like he’s pleased with himself, the situation and pushing Castiel’s buttons. “Them’s the rules. Shall we?”

Castiel’s jaw drops as Dean casually stands up and runs a hand over his shirt. 

He should have known better.

 _Why did I do that?_ _I should have let Inias spin the bottle!,_ he laments internally.

Of course the bottle would point at Dean. Not because Castiel’s got a crush on him, it’s just that he can’t stop thinking about Dean.

That thought kind of breaks Cas’ brain for a second. In the span of two seconds he goes over every thought he ever had of Dean, every feeling, wondering when the hell he went from mortal enemy to a somewhat crush.

As Dean walks past him, he gives Castiel’s shoulder an encouraging tap. “Come on, man, I don’t bite.”

For a second the witch considers opting out of joining Dean in the closet but at the same time he doesn’t want to be _that_ guy so eventually he gets up and drags his feet towards the closet. The space seems smaller than before when he has to share it with the guy he _doesn’t_ want to be attracted to. Dean closes the door behind him and does his best to stand as further away from him as possible as well, mostly just to give Cas his much needed space and not because he particularly minds the closeness.

When the music starts and their conversation is safely private, Dean reassures him in a softer tone this time, “seriously, though, we don’t have to do anything.”

Cas nods in agreement, putting his arms around himself just to have something to do with his hands.

“I mean, I know you probably wanted to be in here with Inias,” Dean says as an afterthought, an edge of something else behind his words that Cas can’t quite pinpoint.

“I _really_ didn’t,” Cas admits before he even knows what he’s doing. Castiel doesn’t want to share that type of information with him, doesn’t want Dean to even think that this is something like bonding time between them. This is fucking torture for him.

“Yeah, well… but I guess I was at the bottom of your wish list though, right?” 

_I guess not_ , Cas thinks bitterly.

He doesn’t respond.

“Look, Cas—” Dean pushes off from the wall, gets his foot tangled with something in the dark and stumbles forwards. Cas holds out his hands out of reflex and stops Dean from falling forwards by grabbing his arms.

Dean leans forwards and kicks off coat hangers. As he does that, a chain with a key slips out from under his t-shirt, revealing itself to Cas for the first time. The witch’s mouth goes dry as he recognises the bloody key right away; it’s none other than key of Hell! Just as Dean straightens up, Cas leans forwards, a hand holding Dean still as the other reaches for the key. Dean, completely misreading the situation and the reason for Castiel’s sudden closeness, breaks what little space is left between them and kisses Cas right in the mouth.

In complete shock, Cas just stands there as Dean’s hands cup his face. His eyes aren’t even close. He looks at Dean, whose eyes _are_ close, kiss him gently but firmly. In just a second, Cas gets sandwiched between Dean’s body and the wall. Dean blindly grabs the hand Cas had suspended in mid air and holds it by the wrist against the wall, next to Cas’s head. 

The witch’s heart is beating furiously inside his chest but for all the wrong reasons. His mind is completely blank for a second. He’s not thinking of the key, he’s not thinking of Hell, of his family, of magic, of anything but the way Dean’s lips are parting and his own mimic the movement. Like a man possessed he loses control of his body and finds himself closing his eyes and kissing Dean back against all odds. Dean kisses him slowly, leading the situation naturally and effortlessly, bewitching Cas with a kind of magic he’s never experienced before. Or maybe it’s just Castiel’s witchy side asking him to finally give into his body’s desires. Either way, when Dean’s tongue darts out to lick at Castiel’s bottom lip like he’s asking for permission, Cas lets a shaky breath out and finds his hand travelling up to Dean’s hair, pulling him in even more.

The music and the voices of his friends fade away like they’re a million miles away. He’s not counting the time, waiting to get away from Dean, but pulling him flat against him. They melt against each other, kissing like it's their last night on Earth and they have to make it count. Cas tastes a hint of alcohol in Dean’s mouth but he doesn’t mind it at all. His mind is foggy with _want_ and _more_ , his brain is in automatic mode, enjoying too much something he’d never thought he’d find in Dean, of all people, even if he’d suspected they could have fun together. Something just feels _right_ about this, like coming home after a long journey. They are like a perfectly well oiled machine, in synchrony, sharing the air they breathe, enjoying every second of their kiss. And it’s not just because it’s an amazing kiss, but because it’s with _Dean_. Something deep down in Castiel’s soul pulls him towards the hunter.

The small space between them starts to melt away around Cas. His eyes still closed, images appear in his mind and just as they come they fade away almost instantly, like memories he’s having trouble remembering and staying focused on. The longer he kisses Dean, the more he sees. He sees himself but older, without a shirt on, rolling in the sheets of his bed with an equally as old Dean. It’s _their_ bed in _their_ room somehow he just knows it. He feels at home there because he _is_ . Dean pulls away long enough to smile at him. His bed hair is gorgeous. There’s nothing but adoration in those green eyes that look down at him. The moment feels charged, special, magical but the butterflies Cas feels in his stomachs don’t have anything to do with his powers being in action but the affection towards Dean that he feels, which is so intense it feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest and explode. Other than that he’s… _human_. Normal. Powerless… and utterly happy lazily kissing his husband on a Sunday morning.

Dean opens his mouth to say something. As he does, Castiel’s hand wanders down his body. He means to pull from Dean’s shirt, to feel the body beneath the clothes, but the moment his hand brushes the bronze key still hanging from Dean’s neck, the metal burns Castiel’s skin back into reality. It’s painful but not terribly so, just enough to snap him back from the trance he was in. The vision in his mind fades away and when his eyes open he’s back in the closet, with Dean in the dark.

He panics. He doesn’t even try to take the key, he just pushes Dean away. Dean, completely taken aback, falls against the opposite wall, sliding down for a second until he finds his balance. Castiel takes that moment as an opportunity to flee. Without thinking he goes straight towards the door of the house, deaf to the many voices that call him. He runs out of the house and into the dark, hurrying down the street without direction faster than he’s ever run in his entire life. He’s not sure why he’s running but he has a compulsion to escape. Only a minute afterwards he hears the steps behind him, the one voice that still calls him.

“Cas, stop! Castiel! Dude, stop!”

Something inside him, something angry and scared, makes him stop and turn around to face Dean. The moment he stops, so does Dean. They’re both panting hard, alone in a strange neighbourhood. His friends haven’t followed them or they weren’t able to keep up, the witch is not sure.

“What do you want from me?” Castiel confronts Dean angrily. His hands curl into fists and with every step he takes towards Dean, the wind around them picks up more and more. “Why can’t you leave me alone? Why do you have to meddle all the time? Why can’t you understand we’re better off apart?”

“Why?” Dean responds, his voice rising to match Castiel’s. _Finally_ , he breaks and lets his frustration out. He can’t keep it bottled up anymore, can’t play the role of the nice guy forever. He needs answers. “Just tell me why!”

“I don’t owe you an explanation! I don’t owe you _anything_!” Cas spits back.

Rain starts pouring down on them from one moment to the other. None of them give it a second thought as the cold water soaks their clothes.

“In fact,” the witch continues, feeling the storm pick up around him and fuelling it willingly even in front of the hunter, finding comfort and confidence in its power, “ _you_ owe _me_ something. That key—give it to me.”

“ _What?_ ”

“The key!”

Cas points towards it and advances towards Dean. The other boy instinctively retreats as his hands fly up to protect the key and hide it away under his t-shirt.

“No, it’s mine!”

“No, it’s not, it was my mother’s job to protect it and yours took it. It belongs to _my_ family!”

Cas knows this is a lie but he doesn’t care. Now that he’s so close to it, he needs to have it, he has to. Dean doesn’t know the past, doesn’t know what is a truth and what’s a lie anyway.

“You’re a damn liar!” Dean accuses him although there’s no doubt that he’s saying that just to defend his mother’s honour. “She gave it to me to protect it!”

“You don’t even know what it opens, you fool!”

“Then tell me! Tell me and I’ll give it to you!”

“I don’t have to tell you anything. And you _will_ give it to me!”

Castiel stretches out his hand towards Dean, waiting for him to give him the key. The top of the trees frantically move from side to side with the force of the wind, thunders roar loud enough in time with Castiel’s movement that it makes Dean jump and look around, realizing the full strength of the storm. Cas sees the moment the mortal starts realizing they should get off the street and go back inside. In that exact second, Cas gets drunks with power as Dean fears the very same thing that the witch can control.

“Are you—”

Dean stops himself before he finishes the sentence, but Castiel can read the question which is plastered in his face; _are you doing this, are you causing the storm?_

Dean shakes his head, discarding that thought as quickly as it popped into his head. 

“I’m not giving you anything. Let’s just—calm down and let’s go back to the house.”

But the witch doesn’t relent. He takes another step towards Dean, full of resolution, and in a threatening voice he repeats, “give me the key, Dean.”

Dean narrows his eyes at him, far from afraid of the witch, storm or no storm. “Or what? Are you going to take it from me, tough guy? Are you threatening me?”

It’s almost an invitation to fight and even though Castiel wants to, even though he knows he could bring Dean down to his knees with pain with a simple spell, he also knows he cannot harm him or forcefully take the key from him without getting cursed himself. Although his family likes to joke around saying he is almost indestructible because of how powerful he is, Castiel would rather not test a very deadly curse. Now that he knows Dean has the key, he has to formulate some sort of plan to steal it from him, find some sort of loophole that allows him to do that.

“I don’t understand you,” Dean tells him when Castiel doesn’t reply. He lets his pain and confusion show in his face, anxiously running his hands through his wet hair. “You don’t hate me but you can’t be close to me. You keep asking me to leave you alone but then you—you smile at me and you kiss me and I just—I can’t take it anymore, Cas. I want to help you and I want to understand you but I’m not going to let you use me like this, dude. You can’t just—you can’t just kiss me like _that_ and pretend it means nothing!”

“I didn’t want to. You tricked me! You—you did _something_ to me!”

Utterly confused and frankly at the end of the rope with his patience, Dean pulls his hair and shakes his head at Cas. “What the hell are you talking about, you lunatic?”

Castiel opens up his mouth to argue but nothing comes out. If Dean didn’t bewitch him somehow in an attempt to seduce him, what the hell was that vision he had?

“I kissed you because I like you and I thought we could get along, man. I looked past your secrets and your fucking mysteries and the way weird shit happens around you all the time because I _like_ you! For some weird ass reason, I _like_ you! But you know what? You were right and my little brother was right and I just—I can’t with you anymore, dude. So you win, Cas, I’m leaving you alone just like you wanted. Have a nice life.”

Dean turns on his heels and leaves the way he came. Cas doesn’t follow. As he watches Dean walk away, something in him, that unknown side of him that had opened itself up to Dean like he was welcoming an old friend back home, wants to follow but Castiel fights that urge and hurries the opposite way, not really caring where he goes.

It’s pandemonium in his mind. The unrest is almost unbearable, a dozen different voices and arguments screaming inside his head so fast that he barely has time to focus in one for long.

The kiss.

The vision.

The way Dean left, like he was done with Castiel for good.

The way Cas hated that, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

The key. The _fucking_ key!

The fact that he considered hurting Dean to get it.

The suspicion that Dean knows more than he lets on.

The way he’s ruining everything.

The reminder that he’s the enemy, a clever hunter that’s getting closer to the truth without even knowing.

The realization that the more Castiel waits, the more likely it is that Dean will stop him from opening the door.

The built up anger inside of Cas threatening to burst out.

The fact that he just left all his friends behind and they’re probably thinking he’s a fucking weirdo, a dramatic jerk that just walked out of the house for no reason whatsoever. What will they think about him? What will Dean tell them? With all his fucking charm he could have them believe anything at all, he could pull them further into his side, away from Castiel.

Oh, the _jealousy_ , the bitter poison that spreads through his mind as he images Dean talking to Charlie and Benny and Garth, all of whom will sympathize with him and think that Castiel is just a freak, a jerk. Dean came back to put down roots and like a fucking weed he’s taking over the entire garden, he’s taking everything from Castiel. He gets between Castiel’s friends and his family and his future, his powers.

When the voices start whispering in his ear, he doesn't even flinch.

“You know what you need to do,” one of the spirits whispers. As if her voice were in his head, he hears it without a problem over the angry storm. 

“It’s time you pick a side, Castiel.”

“You can play to be a mortal.”

“Or you can be a witch.”

“The greatest witch.”

“Feel the power, taste it, embrace it.”

“Don’t fear the dark side, don’t fear the sin.”

One of the spirits puts a hand on his shoulder and Castiel halts, not because he’s afraid of her or perturbed by her touch, but to listen and pay attention to her. She points a bony finger to the distance, Castiel follows the direction of her hand, paying attention to his surroundings after having spent who knows how long walking around without any clear direction. Over the storm he can’t hear them but he can see a group of people in the train tracks—three men and four younger teens struggling. Two girls are holding hands, scared, while one of the men threatens a skinny kid with a knife. They’re in trouble, too far from the nearest house to ask for help. Abandoned bags from a gas station lay close to their feet. They probably went out to get snacks and got caught up in the storm Cas summoned. 

“You can be judge—” starts one of the sisters.

“—jury,” the second continues, standing behind him.

“—an executioner,” the last one finishes, all the disgust and hatred she feels towards mortals reflected in her tone.

“Let us guide you,” they say in unison.

The three sisters melt into one taller, darker spirit. The clearly evil spirit sets her hands on his shoulders and gently pushes him forwards. Castiel complies more than willingly. He marches towards the group, the distressed screams of the girls slowly starting to reach him over the rolling thunders. 

“Stop it, please! We don’t have any more money!” one of them cries out.

“Leave them alone!” Castiel orders them, his voice sounding more deep and terrifying than he’d ever heard. He doesn’t even recognize himself, it’s like he’s possessed by something else or speaking through the spirit. He doesn’t care.

The group turns towards him and everyone freezes. Behind Castiel the dark spirit towers over him like a demonic shadow, eyes hollow and bright red. The terror in their eyes is visible even in the darkness and Castiel rejoices in it. The girls scream, the guy with the knife drops it and his jaw drops as he’s scared senseless. All of them suddenly bolt in the opposite direction but with a quick movement of his hand, the three men that were assaulting the teenagers freeze in place. Cas lowers his hand in a quick, sharp movement and the three of them fall down to their knees. He forces them to turn around while he continues to march towards them, feeling his magic like tentacles crawling up their bodies, taking control. He feels it crushing their meat, subduing them like the men are nothing but clay he can play with.

They cry out in fear and start to beg, but out there in the dark, with the storm unfolding above them, no one can hear them. They are completely at Castiel’s mercy and the thought makes him drunk with power.

Those filthy, pathetic bullies.

Those disgusting, dangerous criminals who preyed on the weak.

What would they have done to those kids if he hadn't been there?

As if they were reading his mind, the spirit whispers into his mind, “they need you, Cas, to give order to the world again. Punish them. Punish them!”

Castiel closes the hand he’s using to control them into a fist and the three men begin to choke. The struggle to breath and become red in the face, frozen and defenceless even when Castiel is barely doing any effort at all to curse them. His magic crawls into every bit of their bodies, every fiber and cell, and with it follows pain, sweet punishment. Their eyes and ears start bleeding. It’s so easy, _so_ so easy to hurt them and it feels so good too, to finally let his anger and his frustrations out, to let Satan’s dark seed blossom and show him the way...

“Cas, stop!”

Out of nowhere Gabriel materializes himself between Cas and the men. Taken aback by his sudden appearance, Cas jumps back and drops the hand that’s choking the men. The three of them collapse on the floor instantly, unconscious.

Acting quickly, Gabriel says a quick but powerful vanishing spell and the spirit behind Castiel disappears into the night moaning like a wounded animal. 

“What the Hell do you think you’re doing?” Gabriel roars like an angry parent.

“How did you get here so fast?” Castiel asks, rather perturbed by the thought that he was being followed by his brother.

“I’m not _really_ here, this is an astral projection. Seir warned me you were in trouble.”

“Seir?” Cas repeats. He can’t help but feel betrayed by his own familiar who ran off to rat him out with his brother. “I’m not in trouble, Gabriel.”

“You were _killing_ those men, Cas!”

Castiel shakes his head in denial. “I had it under control!”

“Under control my ass. I am coming to get you, stay here or I’ll ground you for the rest of your life! And remember, you’re _immortal_!”

Back at Elizabeth’s, Charlie, Garth and Benny agree to leave with Dean as soon as he’s back. Dean’s completely soaked and visibly upset. He tries to force a smile and tells them it’s fine, they don’t have to leave because of him, but they all insist and assure him it’s fine. That and they all want to go looking for Cas who is out there somewhere, alone in a town he doesn’t really know too well, in the middle of a storm. Somehow Dean doesn’t get the feeling that’s an issue for him. A crazy part of him is convinced that the storm follows Cas around or that he can somehow control it. Either way, the weather seems to be tied to him in some weird way. He had not seemed at all worried about it before, but then again Dean gives up trying to understand him and does his best not to think about him at all.

Garth drives carefully, out of respect for Dean, his beautiful car and fear of the storm. They drive around for a while but they don’t find him. Charlie’s worried but Dean assures her that Cas _wants_ to be alone and that he’s probably fine. Eventually she just asks them to drive her home so she can call Gabriel and let him know what happened. She’s upset and hesitant to leave Cas behind, even if he’s the one that ran out. Benny puts an arm around her to comfort her.

When they ask him what happened, Dean tells them the truth; they kissed and Cas regretted it, then accused his mother of stealing the key she gave him. He shows the key to Benny and Garth and asks them if they know what it opens or if Castiel ever mentioned something about it. They don’t know anything, unfortunately. After that, the drive back is tense and silent. They’re all worried sick about Cas but also mad at him for putting them in that position.

They’re not far from town when Garth makes a turn on a curve and in front of them, partially illuminated by the lights of the car, appears a tall and dark figure with red eyes and horns accompanied by several goats. 

Garth steps on the breaks and stirs the car slightly off to the side of the road to avoid running the animals over. As the car comes to an abrupt stop, the gang swings violently in their seats. Benny instinctively puts an arm around Charlie to protect her from hitting her head against the window, pulling her into his arms, and Dean’s hands fly forwards to stop himself from hitting the windshield with his head. 

For a moment they are all silent, breathing hard as they try to calm down… It’s not happening anytime soon.

“What the hell was that?” Charlie freaks out, her voice an octave higher than usual.

Dean swallows hard through the thick lump in his throat. His heart beats so fast it feels like it’s going to explode right out of his chest. “You saw that too?”

“Yeah!” his three friends confirm in unison. They all sound scared out of their wits, even tough, sturdy Benny.

“Did we just... see a _ghost_?” Garth asks, sounding skeptical despite what they’d experienced only seconds ago.

“More like a fucking demon!” Charlie corrects him rather hysterically.

Dean and Charlie lock eyes through the rearview mirror. Without having to ask, they both know what the other is thinking of; _Castiel_ . This _has_ to be related to him, somehow.

No one challenges Charlie about her demon theory. They’re all rather spooked and speechless. Only one look out the window into the darkness of the night has Charlie shifting closer to Benny. Whatever was in the road is now gone though and the sheep carry on their merry way as if nothing had happened.

“Guys, we should keep going,” she whispers faintly. “I don’t want to stay on this road if it’s cursed or something.”

“Yeah, Garth, takes us home.” Benny agrees.

Garth starts driving once more, even more carefully and slowly than before, constantly in the edge of his seat like he’s waiting for something else to appear in the middle of the road. Everyone is quiet and even more tense than before. Especially Dean. He can’t shake the feeling that whatever that thing was, it was looking at _him_ particularly. Even though nothing happened, he can’t help but feel it was a warning of some sorts, an apparition that was meant to frighten him and throw him off.

He thinks back on his conversation with his little brother and everything he’s learned so far, plus everything that he still _hasn’t_ figured out. This apparition is just something else to add to the list. A demon, a ghost or a supernatural being of some sort. He knows what he saw and all his friends saw it too. So would it really be that crazy to think Castiel is a witch? The more he thinks about it, the more it starts to make sense. Things around him only keep getting weirder and weirder.


	14. Chapter 14

The days that follow the party are… _awkward_. For everybody. 

Charlie and Castiel have a short but heated argument over the phone the same night of the party. She’s angry that he just took off like that in the middle of the night, without considering that his friends would be worried sick about him. As soon as she gets home that night, she stays up by the phone until the Novaks _finally_ answer her calls; somehow Gabriel had already left to pick Cas up without getting word from her first and they were back together. Castiel, on the other hand, just wants her to mind her own business and leave him alone for once.

Dean feels humiliated and used. The best kiss of his life is one of the worst things that’s ever happened to him. He liked it so much and while it lasted it’d felt so right. Now he feels like he always does when he throws himself at someone without thinking properly; cheap, easy and worthless. He’d foolishly thought Castiel was finally done playing his stupid games and being mysterious and shady and now they could be friends—or more! But the moment he got what he wanted, Castiel discarded Dean and ran from him like he was the fucking plague. And even though he did nothing wrong this time, Dean can’t help but blame himself for how things ended, rotting in a puddle of shame and self-hatred. 

Maybe if he wasn’t such a screw-up.

Maybe if his family wasn’t so fucking weird and messed up.

Maybe if his mother wasn’t a living mystery herself, if he knew what she’d done.

Maybe if he wasn’t such a needy, pathetic fool.

Maybe Cas would like him if he changed. Maybe if he had a shred of pride he wouldn’t feel this odd connection to Castiel in the first place.

Or perhaps if he knew what the door opens, why it’s so important to Castiel…

Dean gets obsessed. He reads his mother’s diary over and over again looking for some sort of clue he might have missed before. His first guess is it opens the secret quarters of the Men of Letters. He agrees with Sammy that if there was a secret society in town, they must have had meetings somewhere, and isn't it convenient that his family helped build a bunch of places around town? It smells like secret lair to them. The question now is why does Castiel want to get into such a place so much? And was it true his mother was guarding the key? Was she a part of the Men of Letter too? It irritates Dean to his core that instead of finding answers to the many questions he already had, more keep piling up in his mind and out there is a guy that has the answers but refuses to tell him anything. 

“Witches, man,” he huffs in annoyance under his breath, nose buried in an occultism book.

Dean sticks to himself all week. He’s determined to find some answers or some way to prove that Cas is a witch or something. He’s also very embarrassed about the whole kiss ordeal and how upset he was afterwards so he avoids Benny, Charlie and Garth and turns down their offers to have lunch with them or hang out after school. With everything that’s happened, he just doesn’t want to see Castiel and sit with him at the same table, he can’t just pretend everything’s cool and normal. It’s really not this time. He doesn’t even want to think about him. Dean spends his lunches alone in the school library going through history books, especially those about their town and the families that have lived on them for long periods of time. He reads and reads, digs and digs, to the point of obsession. He’s got to keep his mind busy, working constantly to the point of exhaustion, to avoid thinking of that ache in his chest, the hollowness that was left behind when he lost the blissful hope Castiel’s kiss had given him. 

What Dean doesn’t know is that Castiel is avoiding his friends too. He’s been officially grounded by Gabriel for torturing three people so he couldn't see his friends outside of school even if he wanted to. At school, he just avoids meeting their eyes and has lunch by himself in the classroom. He knows that because he can’t provide proper answers to his friends’ questions, they’ll side with Dean when it comes to the events of last Saturday night. Dean, who is so friendly and fantastic and amazing and drives them to parties and can do no wrong. Cas doesn’t have the patience or the will to deal with his friends, so he stays away from them for the entire week. He’s got more important things to take care of anyway, like finding a way to take the key from Dean.

The key cannot be taken by force, an adversary cannot steal the key without getting cursed. He considers sending Seir to grab it while Dean sleeps, which is the only time he takes it off as far as he’s been able to find out through his familiar’s meticulous surveillance of the boy, but he’s afraid that some sort of harm will come his familiar’s way. As mad as he still is at Seir, he’d never do anything to hurt him. So he needs to try something else. If he were on better terms with their friends, maybe he could ask Charlie to ask Dean for the key and give it to him, but with how things are at the moment between them that option is out of the question. Knowing Dean’s house is guarded against magic, it would take a great deal of effort to get it from there by force. The best option is to get it from Dean while he’s out and about. Dean must somehow renounce the key willingly.

Cas tries to look for something useful in the books at home but he finds nothing. He takes to strolling through their property a lot, Gabriel calls him a brooding teenager as he wanders the woods without any sense of direction. Eventually Castiel reaches the small cemetery within their land. The air around him feels charged and haunted, but he isn’t scared. 

Somewhere close he can feel the three spirits of the witch sisters lurking around. Standing in the deserted patch of land where plants don’t grow, surrounded by nothing but graves, he wishes there were more people there to aid him. That gives him an idea; to ask help from the dead. If he summons the spirit of Samuel Campbell, Castiel could maybe convince him that Dean is not strong or wise enough to protect the key and that it’s better if he hands it over to the Novaks. After all, Samuel had left the key under Charles’ care. Dean, who seems like the type of guy who would do anything for his family, might just trust the ghost of his grandfather and give him the key which then Samuel would bring to Castiel without him having to give Dean much of an explanation. All Cas would have to do is ask Samuel to keep the Novaks and their secrets out of the conversation.

It seems a good enough idea so on Wednesday night he sneaks out of his house and heads to the town’s local cemetery with a bunch of ingredients to summon the spirit of Dean’s grandfather. He’s just setting things up, lighting up the candles, when a wind too strong and unexpected to be natural blows the fire out. When he looks up he sees his brother, more furious than ever, marching towards him to put an end to his incantation before it even starts. Castiel gets grounded for an extra week.

“Summoning a soul? Of a _hunter_ ? That is such a violation, Castiel! How _dare_ you disturb a soul from _Heaven_! Our own allies!”

Castiel rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. “What’s the big deal?” 

“ _What’s the big deal?_ ” Gabriel looks like he’s about to slap him across the face. “He can get _stuck_ here, Cas! He could unintentionally hurt people! He’s out of touch with what’s happened, he doesn’t know his daughter is dead. That could set him off, turn him vengeful. With the way he died, it’s a miracle he didn’t stay behind in the first place. You don’t mess with that sort of thing!”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“You don’t get to risk someone else’s soul,” Gabriel grows, bringing his precious car to an abrupt stop on the side of the road. He turns on his seat to face Castiel, the anger radiating from him and charging the entire air inside the car with his powerful presence. “You want that key, you put _yourself_ in the line, no one else, you coward.”

“When did you go so soft?” Castiel responds just to spite him. He’s not just going to sit there, getting scolded like a child.

“When I had to become responsible for _you_ and this entire bloody town!”

“Well, I never asked you to!” Castiel retorts, freeing himself from the seat belt and jumping out of the car. “I’m old enough to be on my own so if I’m such a burden to you, you can just leave! I bet you’d be much happier with Kali!”

Castiel walks the rest of the way home, making it rain so hard the road leading up to their home becomes one giant long puddle, just to irritate Gabriel. When he gets home, they ignore each other for the rest of the day.

Knowing that his father will probably be in contact with Gabriel, Cas skips their usual weekly talk and wanders away again, finding refuge in the small chapel by the graveyard. The tree sisters join him and try to talk him into trying to summon Samuel Winchester again. With Satan’s grip on his soul stronger inside the house of worship, Castiel gets more tempted, he’s got to admit it, and if he really wanted to he could keep Gabriel from stopping him the next time, but somehow he’s not willing to cross that line quite yet. Seir joins him and perches himself on his master’s shoulder, cawing almost threateningly at the spirits.

“Stop it, they’re with me,” Castiel orders him.

His familiar gives him a look like he disagrees and he flies away. Cas scoffs as he watches him go but inside he wishes the bird would come back. Deep down, he feels lonelier than ever and lost. Why can’t no one understand him? He’s just trying to do what’s best for his family, he just wants his parents back. And the stronger he grows, the more convinced he is it’ll be safe to open the door. Nothing will get through that portal that he doesn’t invite in and with the door open, it’ll be easier to punish and damn souls to Hell.

On Thursday Charlie finally corners him in the hallway at school to have a word with him.

“Dude, what are you doing? You’ve been blowing us off all week.”

A part of Castiel knows she’s trying hard to keep her cool, that she’s only just worried about him, but the truth is she can barely keep the exasperation from her voice. He knows that if he made an effort, so would she, that there’s a way to avoid an argument, but he just can’t find the will to try.

“I didn’t want to come between you and your new best friend, Dean.”

The does it for Charlie, that throws away every chance of having some sort of reconciliation right there and then.

“What on Earth is the matter with you? You’ve been acting _so_ weird, for weeks now, and not in your cute usual way. What’s the deal with you and Dean? I just don’t get it!”

Castiel just shakes his head and averts his eyes, which just pisses her off even more.

“You don’t understand, Charlie. There’s a long history with our families.”

Frustrated, Charlie stomps her foot on the ground and rolls his eyes all the way back into her skull. Castiel’s cryptic responses are driving her nuts but he just cannot explain things properly to her.

“Then why don’t you _explain_ it to me instead of changing the subject like you always do?”

When he turns towards her he knows he’s being harsher than necessary but he just can’t stop himself. “Because it’s none of your business!”

Charlie’s completely taken aback by his rudeness. 

“You were both like, what, four years old when you last saw each other? Frankly, Cas, who gives a shit what happened between your parents? Dean came all this way to feel at home for _once_ in his life and you’re making it utterly impossible for him to adapt. _I_ like him, Cas, and I’m going to keep hanging out with him whether you like him or not, because you know what? Right now I think he deserves a little bit more sympathy than you. You’re being absolutely unreasonable and weird about him.”

“Fine,” Cas replies drily.

“Fine!” she repeats before storming off. There are tears in her eyes and he knows all she wants is for him to stop her leaving and make things right between them, but he doesn’t.

That afternoon, as he stews on his feelings while he wanders through the woods on the back of his house, the three spirits continue to whisper in his ear, suggesting curses and intricate plots to get to the key, but Cas can’t be convinced when words like _sacrifice_ and _hellfire_ come into play. He considers some things though, in his mind he balances the pros and the cons and he wonders if he should give in a little. Like Gabriel had said, to make mistakes and live a little, be a witch, a real witch, worthy of Hell.

Seir comes to get him; Sam Winchester has just stormed through their front gates. Confused and a little alarmed by his presence, Cas runs back to the house and reaches the edge of the woods just in time to see Dean’s brother going up the front stairs leading up to the house. There’s nothing but confidence and resolution in his march, no fear of the cursed land or the famously haunted house, just like his brother. By the gates, Cas sees his abandoned bicycle.

Before Sam knocks on the door, Seir reaches the porch, lands on the wooden railing and caws to her the boy’s attention. Sam turns to look at the bird and past it he sees Castiel emerging from the woods, heading his way. As soon as his eyes land on the witch he begins marching down the stairs and across the lawn towards him. He is really mad.

“What are you doing here, kid?” Castiel asks with an accusing tone.

“Are you the jerk who has been bothering my brother?” Sam says in response.

Castiel doesn’t think he needs to reply, the kid seems to already know the answer.

“Now, you listen to me, _boy_ —” Cas starts, pointing a finger at him but Sam Winchester is all righteous and might and doesn’t even let him finish before he points a finger at Castiel in return.

“No, _you_ listen to me! Dean has been through enough and he deserves to be happy so you’re going to stop being a jerk to him! I don’t know _why_ but he really likes you. Or _liked_ you, until you kissed him and then discarded him like he’s a piece of garbage!”

“He kissed _me_!”

“I don’t care who kiss whom,” Sam rolls his eyes at Castiel, “and I don’t care about your stupid secrets or what happened between our moms. I just care about Dean so you’d better not be mean to him again or you’ll have to deal with me!”

Before Cas, a very powerful witch, can say another world, Sam turns on his heels and storms away much like Charlie did the previous day. Castiel has the urge to curse him, just to teach him a lesson. Who does he think he is, that insignificant little mortal, threatening him in his own home? But Cas is painfully aware that he can bring no harm to the Winchesters without getting cursed himself, damned be the treaty peace his ancestors made.

When Castiel starts towards the house, he realizes Gabriel’s standing at the door with an amused expression in his face. He probably saw the whole thing.

“Did a _child_ just scold you?” he teases Castiel as he comes through the door. Gabe follows him inside.

“That was Sam Winchester.”

“Yeah, I know. I heard. What was that about Dean kissing you, by the way?”

His brother does a poor job of hiding his interest. Castiel sighs and stops at the foot of the stairs with one hand in the railing.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Is that why you went all psycho on Saturday? It’s not a good look on you, Cas.”

“Gabriel,” Castiel warns him, his patience wearing thin. He doesn’t want to talk about that or whatever he chooses to do with his magic or the kiss or the clear tension between the brothers that’s been hanging thick in the air lately and that Gabriel is clearly now trying to pretend is not a thing.

“Cas, this is good news!” Gabriel grins wickedly. “He likes you!”

Castiel shoots daggers at his brother with his eyes. “Gabriel, it’s my worst nightmare.”

“You’re not thinking of the possibilities, idiot. You have one foot already in the door. Stop antagonizing Dean, get close to the guy and, you know, seduce him into giving you the key. _Willingly_ . _That’s_ the witch way,” Gabe says and winks at his little brother.

Castiel has to laugh. “You want me to seduce a _hunter_?”

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Which reminds me, dad wants to talk to you. As in, _now_. You’ve been blowing him off all week so get your ass upstairs and talk to him. He’s waiting for you.”

Gabriel points two fingers at his eyes and then at Castiel’s before disappearing into the kitchen. Castiel drags himself upstairs and gives himself a pep talk. He rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck and forces a smile.

When he gets to his room and summons his dad through the mirror, his dad answers right away. It’s like he’d been waiting by the mirror for his son to call which makes feel somewhat guilty.

“Hello, dad,” he smiles tiredly as he sits down in a chair.

“Son, it’s good to hear from you. You’ve been eluding me all week,” his dad says, not in an accusing tone but somewhat cautious.

“I’ve been busy,” Castiel lies.

His father clicks his tongue and gives his son an incredulous look. “Come on, Castiel, don’t lie to me. I know Gabriel grounded you. _Twice_.”

Defensively, Cas crosses his arms over his chest and averts his eyes. It’s growing dark outside earlier and earlier every day.

“I just wasn’t in the mood to talk, okay?”

His dad nods patiently. “And I guess you’re still not in the mood, huh? But you know what? Sometimes it is better to talk about it.”

Castiel doesn’t say anything even though he’s tempted to. He’s got a sea of emotions contradicting each other inside of him and it’s tearing him apart. He feels lonely, so damn lonely, and at the same time he doesn’t want to let anyone in. He’s disappointed, angry and confused. He wishes Dean Winchester had never showed up and at the same time he cannot help but feel extremely curious about him, he cannot stop thinking about that kiss and that vision and how it all felt. How _good_ it felt, in contradiction to how bad he feels now. He wants to be in control. He realizes he’s been bloodthirsty lately, confrontational and always on the verge of losing his patience and self-control. As bad as that sounds, it also feels _good_ not to be a good boy all the time, to be able to let go and welcome a side of him he’d kept repressed his entire life. The power that runs through his veins when he gives in is addictive. He’s spiralling and he doesn’t know whether he wants to go down that path or not, if it’s right or wrong. He doesn’t even _know_ what is right or wrong anymore, the human and the witch sides of him pulling at him in opposite directions, blurring the lines of evil and good.

“Castiel,” his dad calls him softly. Cas turns to him, conflicted and quiet. “I’m not mad at you, son. What you did… it’s up to you to find your own way. I can’t tell you what’s wrong or right. I’ve done far worse back in the day, before…” his dad huffs a laugh as he stares into nothingness, thinking, “before you mom _tamed_ me, I guess you could say.”

“Surely you have an opinion,” Cas claims. “We all have an opinion of what’s right and wrong.”

But Charles merely shrugs. “That can change with time. Is that what’s happening to you? Are you changing your mind, about what’s right or wrong?”

Castiel looks down again, curling a loose string in the hem of his shirt around his finger over and over again. He shrugs like it doesn’t matter but it does. “Maybe. What would you do, dad, if… I… or some of my brothers turned, you know, _evil_?”

The sound of his father barking a laugh makes Castiel lifting his gaze in surprise. “Cas, we’re _witches_. From Hell. There’s not much that can horrify me, son. Nothing you did could ever stop me loving you.”

“I mean _real_ evil, dad. Like hurting people… by the thousands.”

As father and son gaze into each other’s eyes, Castiel feels his heart pick up its pace. He wants to tell his dad what he found out, what his mother deducted all those years ago, the reason why they’re all in this mess. The truth is hanging from the tip of his tongue but the moment his dad asks him what he means, Cas knows he’s not going to tell him. It’d be a mistake. He’s already answered Castiel’s question anyway; nothing he or his brothers did could ever be bad enough for his dad to forsake them or maybe he wouldn’t even think them capable of such a thing, which makes him _weak_. It’s better if he doesn’t know that one of his children once plotted to kill him. Cas will bless him with blissful ignorance instead of breaking his heart. His father has lost enough already.

So Castiel just shakes his head and smiles weakly. “Nothing, dad, never mind.”

“Son… do you know what’s right or wrong, for _you_?”

Cas continues to fidget with the hem of his shirt. He’s finding it hard to lie and pretend it’s all good.

“I just…” he takes a deep breath, trying to put his scrambled feelings into coherent thoughts. He bites his bottom lip anxiously, then says, “I’ve seen both outcomes. Or versions of it, I don’t know how much of it is real but it _felt_ real and both situations… whether I choose the mortal or immortal life, both feel right. But they’re so different…” 

“What do you mean you’ve _seen_ both?”

“My nightmares… I don’t just _see_ the apocalypse. I’m there, leading it, _causing_ it. I’m Satan’s right hand man.”

It takes his father a minute to process that information. Once again trying to be cautious, as if to avoid upsetting his son, he simply says, “that’d be a great honour. If you were chosen for that.”

“I don’t want the _whole_ world to end, you know? Maybe I could put some limits to it but I’ve… been thinking about it and… yes, there’s that. I’ve been thinking about it. Of changing things. This world.”

He is ashamed to admit it but there it is. He’s been thinking about it. If it feels so right, could it really be that wrong? If he’s truly so powerful, could he not keep his darkness under control? Spare his town and those who deserve it and bring a new era into this world? One where magic and witches and creatures of all sorts are free to enjoy this Earth he’s learned to call his home?

But just as he tries to convince himself that he could make it work, another part of him is stubbornly certain that it cannot and it never will be that simple and there’s a reason why Earth and Hell have been separated from the beginning. They cannot coexist, they can’t become one without destroying each other.

Without stopping to judge his son about what he’s just confessed, his father asks, “what about your other vision?”

Instantly, the blood rises to his cheeks. He sees himself again in bed, his legs tangled with Dean’s and the sheets. He feels Dean’s naked, warm skin on his, feels his breath on his face. Sees the love in his eyes. He remembers feeling like he had everything he’d ever wanted. A home, a family, a sense of belonging, someone by his side that would never leave him, no matter what. Dean loved him dearly, fiercely. And Cas was no longer powerful, there was not a shred of magic left in him, but he felt like he was on the top of the world nonetheless. _That_ would be a great trick, he thinks.

“I, err… kissed Dean. Well, he kissed _me_ ,” he corrects himself right away, like it makes a difference, like he didn’t kiss Dean back like he was dying for it. “And I had a vision.”

His father smiles softly. “The calling,” he mumbles almost to himself.

“The what?”

“The calling,” he repeats. There’s something melancholic in his voice. “As in, true love’s calling.”

Castiel blinks a couple of times, speechless. His father can’t help but chuckle.

“You saw your life with Dean, didn’t you? What would happen if you stayed in the mortal world, by his side?” Cas nods in affirmation. His dad continues, “it happens to witches sometimes, when they have mortal soulmates. A person can have more than one true love in their lifetime, especially when you live as long as we do… I guess for us it’s not a matter of finding the one but having the courage to do something about it.”

“Did you have a vision too? With mom?”

Charles’ eyes are rather sad when he nods. “It’s supposed to discourage us. It’s a warning, a death omen. It’s God’s way to trick us into dying, making us fall in love with a human so we’ll stay on Earth with them, or so we say in Hell. But for me it had the complete opposite effect. I had that vision and I wanted nothing else but to live and die by your mother’s side.”

“So it’s true? He’s my soulmate? _Him_?”

Cas doesn’t know how to feel about that, if it makes things better or worse, if it changes anything.

“Yes, but like I said, it’s a choice. You don’t _have_ to fall in love or stay with him. It’s not even a promise that things will be good or that it’ll work out.”

“So what do I do?”

Charles shrugs and gives his younger son an encouraging smile. “That’s for you to decide, Castiel. You decide what’s right or wrong for you. That’s the beauty of being Satan’s child.”

Finding no comfort in their conversation, Cas slumps against the chair and sighs heavily. “Why can’t you just tell me?” he complains halfheartedly.

“That’d be no fun,” his father jokes, then more serious he adds, “son, whatever you choose, I’ll support you.”

Instead of feeling comforted, Cas shakes his head.

 _That’s what I’m afraid of_ , he says to himself.

Lost in his troubled mind, Castiel wants someone to show him the way.


	15. Chapter 15

“Dean?” Sammy knocks on his bedroom door early on Saturday afternoon. He doesn’t wait for a response before he opens the door and his head pops from behind it. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” Dean mutters. He turns the pages of the book he’s currently reading, which got him nowhere closer to finding any of answers to the many questions that have been plaguing his mind, skimming through the titles trying to find something useful, some sort of lead. The books he checked out of the library, while interesting and full of magic tips that might come in handy one day, have nothing to offer on the case of the Novaks and the discovery of witches. “I mean, this is getting me  _ nowhere _ . We need to hit the library again.”

When Dean looks up, he reads  _ guilty _ all over his brother’s forehead. Immediately, he narrows his eyes at him.

“What did you do?”

“Don’t be mad—”

“Never a good start, Sammy.”

“—but I called Charlie.”

Dean does a double take on him and sits up in his bed. “Why?”

“You’ve been down and alone all week and I hate to see you like that. I don’t think you should stop being friends with everybody just because you don’t get along with Castiel.”

“Sam—”

“I agree,” Charlie claims as she walks into the room. She gives Dean a bitch face that’s free from bad intentions, planting her hands in her hips like she means business. “We’re friends now, dude, deal with it, you can’t just blow us off.”

“Charlie, I don’t want to come between you and Cas…tiel. You’ve been friends for a long time, you should prioritize that friendship.”

“No offense, Dean, but I’m an independent, strong woman, I can make my own decisions and I say I can be friends with the both of you if I want to,” she states confidently, smiling at him in that playful way of hers that makes him adore her. 

Dean gives her a look like he’s not convinced but Charlie, who rarely takes no for an answer, leaps forwards and yanks him up by the wrists.

“Come on, stop being such an emo! Let’s hang out, come on.”

Dean pretends to sigh, defeated, and lets her pull him to his feet even though he could  _ easily _ resist the petite redhead. He looks over to the books and says, “well, I gotta go to the library if you feel like running an errand with me.”

Charlie pulls her lips into a thin line and tries not to laugh at him. “Well,  _ there’s _ the fun I was looking for on a weekend.”

“It’s for research, smartass,” Dean explains as he hands her one of the books of occultism. Charlie eyes the book with curiosity and surprise.

“You got this from the library? Where the hell from? I’ve never seen this before. And trust me, I would have noticed something juicy like this! I’m sure the soccer moms would have had this burn at the stake too.”

“In the occultism and lore section. Obviously.”

Her eyes open in shock. “The  _ what _ now?”

Sam, who stayed behind to make sure Charlie could lift his brother’s spirits, lifts an eyebrow incredulously. “It’s in the basement? You’ve never seen it?”

Charlie simply replies with another question. “There’s a  _ basement _ ? Since when?”

The brothers look at each other like they can’t believe her, then back at her. 

“Since—I don’t know. Always? These are pretty old, Charlie, it looks like they’ve been there forever. It was weird though,” Dean points out as he thinks back of the day he went down to the basement, “the librarian herself barely remembered the section and she said no one ever went down there. She seemed kind of scared of it, actually.”

“Oh, this I’ve gotta see!” Charlie decides excitedly, grabbing the other two books from the desk and hugging them close to her chest. “I can’t believe I’m gonna say this but let’s hit the library, guys.”

With his dad’s permission, Sammy, Charlie and Dean head out to the library in the car. John, who had also noticed Dean wasn’t having a good week, is more than glad to let him go out with a friend.

The three of them head together into the library. Before the gang heads down to the basement, Dean and Sam head to the help desk to return their books. Just as when Dean took the books out, the librarian seems perturbed by the titles and she eyes them like it’s the first time she’s even seen them. This, once more, strikes Dean as odd. When the poor woman stares in the direction of the basement with dread, like she wants nothing less in the world than to go down there, he offers to take the books back to the shelves himself which she seems immensely grateful for.

The brothers then lead Charlie towards the stairs that go down to the basement. Once more, the way is engulfed in complete darkness, totally unwelcoming for those who don’t know that’s another area of the library that’s open for visitors.

“No wonder no one ever goes down there,” Dean says, “the lights are always off.”

Charlie looks over Dean’s shoulder, shivering as an unpleasant feeling runs down her spine.

“You sure it’s down there?” she asks in a high pitched voice, an edge of dread in her voice.

Dean looks at her over her shoulder and smirks. “Are you scared of the dark, Charlie?” he asks her as he turns the switch on.

Even with the lights on, Charlie doesn’t seem to like where they’re going at all. “No, I’m scared of creepy ass dark passages to unknown places.”

“You’re the Ron to my Harry Potter.”

Charlie gasps, utterly offended. “How dare you?”

Sam rolls his eyes at them and starts walking down the stairs. Dean follows him with Charlie glued to his side like she’s expecting something—a murderer, a ghost—to jump from behind the nearest wall and chop her into pieces. Dean hasn’t known Charlie for long but she’s known her long enough to know the girl’s got some balls, even if she’s not the type to go looking for trouble, so it’s weird to see her get so spooked over…  _ nothing _ , really. Even when they get to the bottom of the stairs and she’s introduced to the collection of peculiar books that should be making her feel nothing but excited, Charlie sticks to Dean like she’s his new shadow.

While Dean checks the codes of the books in an effort to leave them exactly where he found them, Sam eyes the titles of the books in search of something useful. 

“This place is creepy as hell,” Charlie whispers while Dean checks the codes.

Teasing her to lighten up the mood, he whispers back, “why are you whispering?”

“I don’t know,” she responds, again in a whisper. “I feel like—like there’s  _ something _ down here. Don’t you?”

Dean shrugs. Sure, the place is dark, the shelves are oddly organized and need a good dusting, plus that moldy smell is not great but other than that this is by far the most interesting section in the entire library. And yet Dean has the feeling no one’s been down there for ages, at least for long enough that the librarian herself seems to have forgotten about it.

“No,” he disagrees calmly as he slides one of the books back into its place, “but it’s weird, the librarian also seems very spooked by the basement.”

“I find the idea of you and your brother being recklessly fearless more comforting than that of me being a wuss.”

“You tell yourself that, Ron.”

Charlie punches him in the arm in response and Dean chuckles.

“Hey, guys! Come check this out!”

Dean puts the last book back in its place, then follows his brother’s voice to the back of the room with Charlie constantly breathing down his neck. Sam is standing in front of the door Dean saw the last time he was there, the one that had that symbol his mother drew on her diary over and over again, like doodles one draws absentmindedly. He’d nearly forgotten about the door and he curses himself for it.

“Hey, isn’t that the same symbol your mom drew in her diary?” Charlie recalls as well.

Dean nods enthusiastically in response. “What do you think is behind that door?” he asks the other two, eyes shining with excitement. He produces his mother’s key from under his shirt and holds it in his hand like he’s holding onto hope itself. “Do you think this is it, guys? Think we found  _ the _ lock?”

Sam shrugs and reaches for the handle. “I don’t know, let’s find out.”

The door opens which Dean doesn’t know whether to find disappointing or convenient; for a moment there he’d really hoped  _ this _ was the door his mother’s key opened,  _ if _ it was a door they were even looking for in the first place. The three of them walk into the strangest little room. It has nothing but a door with a gargoyle-head hole and a slightly faded pentagram drawn in chalk on the floor. 

Charlie looks a little more closely and suddenly groans in disgust, “is that  _ blood _ ?” she asks as she points at the dark red stains in the floor which lead all the way to the gargoyle-head.

“Looks like it,” Sam agrees as he crouches down to take a closer look.

“What the hell happened in here?” 

Charlie doesn’t seem amused by the pentagram at all.

“Witches, man,” Dean replies jokingly, then an idea occurs to him, “hey, what if Castiel was here? Guys, we might be getting closer to the bottom of this mystery than we’d thought.”

“Except there’s nothing here,” Sam argues. He touches the walls like he’s expecting to find some sort of hidden entrance but there’s just nothing there.

“There’s that,” Dean points towards the gargoyle-head.

“Oh, you mean that hole in the wall with blood on it?” Charlie asks sarcastically because the last thing she wants to do is follow the trail of blood.

Dean walks up to the hole to take a better look, trying to peek inside it but failing to see anything but darkness. “That’s not a wall, that’s clearly a door of some sort.”

“Be my guest and put your hand in there, Dean,” Sam says sarcastically, not  _ really _ expecting his brother to go ahead and do just that. Sam jumps to his rescue as soon as Dean puts his hand inside the hole. “Dean, no!”

But it’s too late, Dean’s hand is inside and deep into the hole until something catches his hand and holds it in place. Taken by surprise by the mechanism that has trapped him, Dean lets out an undignified squeal and attempts to yank his hand out with no luck.

“Guys, I’m trapped!” he exclaims as he panics. Suddenly he’s not so brave and not so eager for answers as he’s more aware that he might end up like the poor bastard before him, the one that left all those trails of blood. In a second, the future flashes behind his eyes and he seems himself minus one half of his arm in it.

Sam grabs Dean’s trapped arm while Charlie hugs him from behind and together they try to push Dean away from the hole in the wall. At the same time, Dean feels something pinch one of his fingers, a barely painful quick little stab like that of a needle, and suddenly the mechanism lets go of his hand. With Dean freed, the three of them stumble backwards and collapse to the ground, Dean practically crushing Charlie as they land on the cold, hard ground. Dean rolls off of her and hurries to help her up as he apologizes over and over again, looking at her up and down to make sure she’s okay.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she assures him as she rubs the back of her right shoulder. “But that was a pretty dumb move, Winchester.”

“Guys, look!” Sam exclaims. Dean turns in time to see his brother opening the door that the mechanism inside the gargoyle-head seems to have opened. 

“Not so dumb now, huh?” Dean smirks as he elbows Charlie, whose jaw is hanging open in shock.

Sam pushes the door open, surprised at how easily it gives in judging by how solid and sturdy it seemed from their side. The three of them look around in awe at what they find. First they come into a small war room with a big table with a map on it and several old computers and machines like a reel-to-reel tape deck, a teletype and phones. Beyond that is a large library with several tables and chairs that speak to the amount of people that a long time ago were part of whatever society built this place, the walls covered with bookcases, filing cabinets and a wide variety of weapons. At the rear of the library is a very large telescope. The group doesn’t know where to begin, what to explore first, they’re frozen in place glancing around them in complete amazement.

“What in God’s name is this place?” Charlie thinks out loud, not really expecting an answer.

Nonetheless, Sam’s got one. “It’s the secret lair! The bunker of the Men of Letters!”

Dean sees the moment his brother’s brain lights up like a Christmas tree , then he's running towards the filing cabinets like it contains all the answers in the world to every question he ever had. He finds a case index and scans it so fast Dean can’t understand how he’s getting any information from it at all. Charlie, bless her soul, walks up towards the nearest sword in the wall and grabs it, almost dropping it when the weight of it catches her by surprise. 

She runs a finger over the blade and looks up, grinning like a madman, “dude, this is  _ real _ !”

Dean is tempted to go check out the weapons too but something catches his eye instead; at the furthest end of the library, on the table, there’s an envelope. Somehow, the way it stands out from the otherwise perfectly neat room tells him it’s important so he marches towards it while his heart beats so fast he can feel it in his throat. When he grabs the envelope he sees his mother’s handwriting, beautiful and graceful.

_ To Sam and Dean _

His hands begin to tremble. In a shaky voice, he calls his brother. “Sammy, come here for a second.”

Sam, who would have otherwise refused to be distracted from the holy grail of perfectly organized information he’s just discovered, turns around right away when he hears his brother’s strange tone. Curious, Charlie also approaches Dean, reading over his shoulder. 

“Oh, shit, is that from your mom?” she asks, placing a gentle hand over his shoulder.

Dean can only nod and swallow through the lump in his throat. His legs suddenly weak, Dean takes a seat. Charlie and Sam both grab chairs and drag them to sit by Dean. While trying to hold his hands steady and appear brave, calm and collected, Dean opens the letter and begins to read.

_ My dear boys, I hope you never find this letter, I hope you never find this bunker, I hope you live ordinary happy lives. _

_ If you find this letter it means I’m dead. I don’t know how it will happen, I just know that it will. It breaks my heart to have to leave you, I wish I could see you grow up and tell you how much I love you every day, but I have to do this. I will close the door to Hell in a few minutes which will cost me my life. I don’t know who I can trust, I don’t know if I am right or wrong in not asking Gabriel for help, but my gut tells me I should honor Clarice’s request and close the door immediately. If she didn’t give him the key, she must have had her reasons. I don’t know what those are, I don’t know what drove her to turn on her family because I know how dearly she loves them, but the moment she decided to betray them she began to turn to stone. She called me to her house but by the time I found her she was already almost completely turned. She left Cas inside, sleeping. I think she didn’t want him to find her like that. She could barely move her face anymore, all she could tell me was to close the door. I stayed with her until she was fully turned, I didn’t want her to be alone. _

_ She knew something important. My only regret is to die not knowing why but I have had the feeling that something is coming for a while, something related to all the murders. She would have never asked me to close the door if it wasn’t a life and death situation, she knew that I’d pay the price too. I wish I could wait for Charles to return, it breaks my heart to think I’ll be leaving Castiel orphan in this side of the world, but too many lives have been lost already. I should have helped my dad when he asked me. My only hope is that my faith is not in the wrong place and that my sacrifice will guarantee your safety. I love you so much, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. _

_My boys, I don’t know how much you will know about the Men of Letters if you find this but I don’t have the time to explain everything in a letter. John doesn't know about the supernatural but maybe another hunter will teach you. I hope they don’t. But if they do, Dean love whatever you do please don’t give them the key. The door to Hell must remain closed which is why I gave it to you instead of keeping it in the bunker, where another hunter could find it and give it to the Novaks. I hope John honors my wishes and that he takes you away from here, and so the key will disappear with you. Whatever you do,_ _do not open the door to Hell and do not give anyone else the key._ _I don’t know when it’ll be safe to open it again—if ever, so just leave it closed. If you open it, it’ll be your responsibility to stay in town and guard the door which is something I’ve never wanted for you._

_ I’m sorry I won’t be there for you. I will love you forever. Take care of yourselves and your dad. You are everything I’ve ever wanted and a pretty damn good reason to die for. _

_ Love, _

_ Mom _

Dean’s jaw is tightly shut, tears cloud his vision. One rolls down his cheek. Charlie pretends not to see it. Sam puts his arms around Dean’s neck from behind, resting his head in his brother’s shoulder. Charlie puts an arm around the both of them and leans in to plant a sweet peck in Dean’s cheek.

“Are you okay?” Sam asks quietly, with emotion in his voice too.

Dean isn’t sure he can speak through the lump in his throat without his voice breaking. His hand goes up to touch the key hanging from his neck. He doesn’t know how to feel about it. It caused his mother’s death, so he hates it, but it’s imperative to protect it to honour her sacrifice. A part of him wishes he would have thrown it into a lake somewhere in the middle of nowhere in one of their trips. Now he brought it back to town… is that safe? 

There’s so much new information his brain needs to process and at the same time, there are new questions.

What did Clarice find out? What was so dangerous that she betrayed her own family and asked her best friend to die?

When his mom says the door to Hell, does she really,  _ literally _ , mean Hell? If so, why would Castiel want to open the door? Does he not know that it was closed for an important reason or does he not care? 

Dean sniffles discreetly and clears his throat. “Well, some things make sense now. Like, why Castiel thinks he has a right to the key.”

“Or why he thinks your mom’s guilty for, you know… destroying his family.” Charlie adds.

“Is anyone else thinking she implied Castiel’s father’s in Hell? The way she talks about Castiel; being alone on  _ this _ side, like he is on the  _ other _ side…” Sam trails off and looks around like he’s waiting for approval to continue.

Charlie’s eyes open up almost comically wide. “That makes  _ so _ much sense. God, I would have never guessed I’d say  _ that _ , but yeah, Cas’ dad might just be locked up in Hell.”

“So this is it?” Dean asks as he turns to face them both. They exchange looks of astonishment between each other. “Magic is real and Hell is real and the door is somewhere in here and Castiel’s mom turned into stone?”

Silence settles between them. They all strongly agree that  _ yes _ , that’s exactly what is happening, but a part of them is still reluctant to accept such a bizarre concept.

“That or mom lost her marbles,” Sam concludes.

Charlie huffs a laugh and throws her arms out, looking around the room like that’s all she needs as proof. “I think the secret bunker is pretty solid proof in her favour, dude.”

“Do you guys think the door is here?” Dean thinks out loud, a shiver running down his spine as the thought of a passage to literally  _ Hell _ being meters away from them. “To Hell, I mean.”

“Makes sense,” Sam responds, “why else would she come here? And if you’re going to guard something important, wouldn’t you put it here?”

Not really convinced, Dean shrugs. “I don’t know, man, it wasn’t so hard to find this place.”

“But think about it,” Sam insists. “Charlie and the librarian—they didn’t even want to look in the direction of the basement, like something about it repelled them. The pentagram outside the door, the blood? My guess is someone tried to enter and either failed or paid dearly for coming in.”

“Why would it be so easy for us?”

Sam shrugs. “Maybe whatever repels others is programmed to accept us? I mean, our family built this.”

“You’re pretty smart, did you know that?” Charlie tells Sam as she nods to herself, agreeing with everything he’s just said.

“I’ve got the looks, he’s got the brains,” Dean jokes. He folds his mother’s letter carefully and puts it in his pocket before getting up. “So is it just me or does anyone else want to see this door to Hell?”

Charlie and Sam nod in agreement and so the trio wanders around the bunker, curiously exploring around the many rooms they find. It’s better than any of them had expected. There are several storage rooms where the most bizarre things are safely and neatly stored away. They agree to go looking through those another day because it’s impossible to go through the amount of stuff there is in a single day and they really want to see what else there is in the Men of Letters’ hidden lair. Other rooms include a shooting range with targets and an arsenal of guns of all kinds, a large kitchen, proper bedrooms and bathrooms as if people actually lived there at some point, a sick bay and a very creepy room that seems to be some sort of dungeon. In the middle of the small room there is a very intricate sigil painted in red and a chair nailed  _ and _ chained to the ground which includes cuffs with some sort of engraving on them. They get the hell out of there almost as soon as they go in. Last but not least there’s a set of stairs leading down into another corridor with a single plain door at the very end. The door is open and behind it there’s another room, a dark, cold and deadly quiet one. There’s nothing on it but a final door on the opposite side of the room. As soon as they see it, they know it’s  _ the _ door. The thing is massive, at least twice as tall as they are, made of pure metal. Engraved on it there are angels and all sorts of creatures fighting each other, and people depicted doing all sorts of things, some participating in orgies, others battling with the creatures, some getting brutally murdered. Dean doesn’t know where to look first, there’s just so much going on. In the middle of the door, there’s a keyhole. For some reason, when he sees it Dean’s hand flies to the key hanging from his neck and he tucks it in back inside his shirt, safely away under his careful protection. How ironic, he thinks, that now that he's finally found what it opens he wants nothing more than to leave it alone.

“This is awesome and also terrifying,” Charlie whispers but her voice sounds incredibly loud with the complete lack of noise in the room.

“Agreed,” Dean whispers back, for some reason.

Rather cautiously, as if the door could burst open at any given moment or as if it could somehow trick him into opening it without his consent, he walks closer to it, hands reaching out to touch the cold metal. Not without some hesitation, Dean leans even closer and presses one ear into the metal, not really knowing if he wants to hear something or not. He’s met with nothing but more silence. 

“Huh…” he says when he pulls away. “I don’t know why but I was expecting some creepy noise like, you know, souls being dammed.”

“The door’s been closed for over a decade, Dean,” Sam points out, “I doubt anyone’s eagerly waiting on the other side.”

“Why was it open in the first place?” he asks, shaking his head to himself. There are just  _ so _ many things that still don’t make sense at all… and he’s  _ still _ sure that Castiel would have the answers to many of them, somehow, if not all. “Why would our family keep a door to Hell open? I mean, it’s  _ Hell _ . Isn’t that dangerous or something?”

“We don’t even know for how long it was open. We need answers.”

“Okay… I’m just…” Dean turns towards the door again. It’s weird to think his mother stood there once, closed this door, and for some reason it caused her her life. He’s not sure  _ how _ because she died in a fire in their house, but her letter was clear, she knew it was coming. Maybe the door was cursed, maybe he wasn’t supposed to touch it. A shiver runs down his spine as he thinks that.  _ Well, that’s done _ . “I just want to stay here for a few minutes. You guys go ahead without me, I’m sure there’s a lot to explore.”

“You sure?” Charlie asks, giving him a soft and warm smile. “I can stay with you if you want.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I just need a moment.”

“Okay,” she smiles at him as she puts a hand on Sam’s shoulder, “come on, Sam, let’s go crazy in the supernatural library.”

Dean’s not sure why he stays, it’s not the most comforting room to be in to gather his thoughts. It’s creepy and he definitely feels like something’s watching him at all times, but all he can think about is this is where his mom made the choice to die. For him, for her family, to keep them safe. Because Clarice asked her to. She died for them too, both of them sacrificed themselves for their loved ones.  _ Why?  _ He had to know why or it’ll drive him crazy. All this time he’d thought his mom had died in a weird accident. It had never been easy to deal with that, such a meaningless stupid death, but now all those wounds that never really healed feel raw and new again. She died for a reason that was even unknown to herself. Dean knows he won’t be able to accept that as easily as she did, not when he has all the time in the world to find out, all his life ahead of him to discover the truth, contrary to Mary. He has to know why his mom died, even if the threat had been neutralized.

He cries. He reads her letter over and over again and he cries. She loved him. It’s not like he didn’t know but he has solid, tangible proof, her own words. She’s not just a memory, not just some woman whose diary he found and read, she’s there talking to  _ him  _ directly, through time and space. That piece of paper is the only way communication between them that can endure, it’s immortalized.

After a while, he wipes his tears with the back of his hand, takes a few calming breaths and leaves that godawful, most likely haunted chamber. 

Upstairs in the main room, the library, Charlie and Sammy are going nuts digging through many,  _ many _ books. Dean’s taken aback by the number of books and journals that the pair has pulled from the shelves and scattered all over the tables. 

When they see he's finally joined them, they both grin at him like mad men, almost bouncing in their feet with enthusiasm.

“Dude!” Charlie screeches excitedly. 

“We found something!” Sam exclaims just as enthusiastically before Dean has a chance to grab one of the weapons to examine. He’s kind of disappointed about that. “We found  _ everything _ ! There is a really detailed cases and books index, they detail information collected over  _ centuries _ , every case, incident report and information on hunters the Men of Letters worked with.”

“Okay,  _ nerd _ ,” Dean replies, lifting an eyebrow, “I get it, you’re in Heaven.”

“You don’t get it. We found the answer to  _ everything _ ! Well, not  _ everything _ everything,” Charlie corrects herself quickly as she runs back to the table and looks for something to show him, signaling to him to get closer with one hand, “but  _ enough _ .”

Dean’s heart jolts in interest. “Like?”

“Like Castiel is a witch, it’s confirmed,” Sam grins at the same time he grabs a very old book and an even older scroll which he rolls open.

Dean takes a few steps closer and looks at the book first. He pears at the title;  _ The book of Allies. _ Sam had opened the book in a page that appears to show a family three, that of the Novaks. Long, messy and mostly about people he doesn't know but, no doubt, at the end of one of the lineages he sees three familiar names: Charles, Clarice and Castiel Novak. For what they see there, Charles had also had other children before Clarice. Dean’s brain breaks for a moment there as he sees  _ Gabriel _ listed as one of his children. He’s never been good at doing math mentally but he knows right away that something just doesn’t add up there. Judging by Gabriel’s age, he just could not be Charles’ son.

Dean gives his brother a look like he’s gone mad. “That’s hardly proof. And this thing is off.”

“Now read  _ this _ ,” Sam tells him. The scroll has a lot more content and by the looks of it, it has some sort of contract format.

“No, thank you,” Dean groans. “Can I get the summary?”

Sam could slap him for being so dense once they finally have the answers they had been looking for but he just cannot waste time bitching with his brother when he’s bursting to tell him what he’s learned anyway.

“It’s a peace treaty! It’s a contract, really. It’s very detailed and thorough. We didn’t read the whole thing— _ yet _ ,” something intense shines in Sam’s eyes and Dean just knows that his brother is going to be spending a lot of time down here from now on, “but we’ve discovered enough. So, this is signed by our ancestors, the Campbells, and other families,  _ and _ , get this— _ witches _ ! Real witches, Dean. The Novaks, all of them! Long story short, they agreed to live in peace with each other but they wanted to make sure neither would turn on the other down the road so they sort of agreed on mutual curses that would extend through bloodlines. The witches promised to protect the door to Hell from Hell’s side to make sure no evil creatures came through and in exchange, the Men of Letters allowed the door to stay open and for the Novaks to come and go freely. At least one of us had to stay behind and protect the door from our side. The first born of every family was given the task to protect the key. The key is cursed, it cannot be taken by force, to keep an evil creature from trying to steal it. It also burns witches and demons to the touch.” 

In the back of his mind, as his brother keeps talking, Dean realizes that must have been why Cas pulled away when they were kissing, hissing in pain; he touched the key.

“At the same time, the door to Hell is cursed, to avoid hunters from closing it. Whoever closes it will pay a high price, more often than not with their lives. That’s why mom knew it would kill her to close the door, she knew it was cursed. Remember what she said, that we were all she wanted? I think that's why the curse waited for her to come home to punish her, because it didn't just kill  _ her,  _ it destroyed what she loved, our family, our home. Also, there are other doors to Hell, some are listed as closed but we found copies of other peace treaties. There’s an index in The Book of Allies with locations associated with families of witches  _ and _ other creatures. That’s because the members of those families that signed a treaty can only come through the one door they keep watch over. That’s a curse, to force them to be loyal.”

“Also, we figured out why nobody comes to the basement,” Charlie beams, proud to discover she’s not just a coward but was bewitched into fear, “it’s got a protection spell on it, to keep people away from the bunker. And the gargoyle thing—it took a sample of your blood. Only the blood of a hunter can open it, a descendant from one of the families who made the bunker.”

Dean frowns and looks down at his finger. “Great, so I’ll have to have my finger poked  _ every _ time I wanna come in here?”

Completely ignoring him, Charlie continues and waves a book in his face, almost attacking him with it in her excitement. “It’s all in here! It details all the curses and spells that were cast upon the bunker as protection. This is frigging awesome, man. I don’t even need to play D&D anymore, I am  _ living  _ this shit!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The door to Hell: Rodin’s La Porte de l”Enfer. I really recommend you search for a pic because the details are amazing!  
> First gif: cheerfulsammy-blog  
> Second gif: byaseashore


	16. Chapter 16

They go nuts, Charlie and Sam in particular. It’s like they are determined to go through each and every single book, journal and scroll in the library, even though they know they have centuries of knowledge to go through. It’s not that Dean’s not interested too, but from time to time he takes a break to avoid a headache from cramming his brain with so much new information, all of which seems important. He walks around and examines the various weapons that are on display and also goes through the boxes in the storage room. There’s just so many different things to be discovered, weird ingredients for spells he could have never even guessed existed, such as fairy dust or angel feathers. 

As much as he’d like to know about vampires, demons, werewolves and what not, Dean’s most interested in one creature:  _ witches _ . The Novaks, specifically. Dean goes back to the Book of Allies and carefully studies their family tree. He’s shocked to find Gabriel’s real age but even more so Charles’; no wonder Mary didn’t want her best friend dating the guy, he was hundreds of years old. A section of the book details their powers. They’re pretty broad and impressive, it seems to Dean there’s just about anything they can do which is why he finds it even more remarkable, and frankly kind of concerning, that Castiel is listed to be thought to be the most powerful of them all, even though that was written back when he was just a babe. His half human, half witch soul, something that is very much unusual, holds a power that is no match for that of a purely dark, Hell-born soul. It’s stupid and boyish to think about but Dean finds it oddly hot; he likes a guy that can handle himself and he likes the idea of this sort of skinny, quiet guy having a atomic bomb like power inside him that he can control at will. 

Going back to the treaty, he finds more limitations the Novaks are bound to to this day. Besides learning that Castiel cannot steal the key from him without being severely cursed himself, which is sort of comforting to Dean because the last thing he wants is an all-powerful being haunting his ass for the key, he discovers Cas—and any of the Novaks—cannot physically, seriously harm him or take control of his body through mind spells. Dean and Sam, however, owe them the same courtesy; they can’t harm them, bind them into obedience or attempt in any way to weaken them or take their powers away. Both sides, humans and witches, must respect each other and live in peace with one another…

Which Castiel seemed to be managing pretty well right up until the moment Dean arrived. Something about him and his family triggered the young witch. It couldn’t have been the key, he didn’t know Dean had it until a week ago, so why did he hate them so much, because he blames Mary for losing his parents? Dean’s willing to bet that all the terribly inconvenient things that happened to him when he arrived, from the nightmares to the embarrassing accidents at school, were caused by Cas. What was his endgame though? Dean and Sam were not a threat, they did not know his secrets and are no match for him, even now that they have discovered the bunker. 

“Maybe he wants to open the door,” Charlie suggests, “and he thinks you’re going to stop him? You know the blood we saw outside? That could have been him, I remember the first day of school he had some cuts in his arm and he told us some bullshit story about being bitten by a dog… Bet that was him. I’m going to ask him.”

“Wow, wow, hold on a sec there.” Dean puts his book down and gets his feet off the table, sitting up to look at Charlie across the table with a dead ass serious expression on his face. “We can’t tell anybody about this, not even Castiel.”

Charlie snorts and looks at him like he’s crazy but Dean doesn’t budge. Her smile drops. “Why the hell not? Dude! I’ve spent my entire life wondering what’s up with Cas. I have so many questions for him!”

“I get that, I do, and I’m sorry to have to ask you to keep something this huge a secret but there’s still so much we don’t know. We don’t know why his mom turned to stone; did the Novaks curse her or what? We don’t know why she and my mom decided to close the door to Hell. We don’t know what was going on with those murders back in the day, although apparently there was some supernatural shit going on that not even my grandfather could figure out. We don’t know if we can trust Gabriel, the guy who  _ raised _ Cas, so there’s no way Cas is turning on him for us. If he was up to something back then, he could easily be up to something  _ now _ . My mom gave me the key to protect, it is my legacy, Charlie. And Cas wants to take it from me. I don’t think he’s going to like discovering that I know all the things he tried so hard to keep a secret.”

Bursting with disappointment and the need to argue, Charlie purses her lips into a thin line and tries to come up with a good excuse to disagree with Dean but she can’t really find one. After all, Cas did try his hardest to keep what he was a secret, his entire life, even from her, his best friend. She can’t help but take it personally, that he never trusted her enough to tell her.

Eventually she sighs and melts into her seat, pouting like a child.

“I hate secrets!” 

Dean chuckles. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise to bring you down here often.”

She points a finger threateningly at him and coldly but playfully replies, “you’d better.”

Right before dinner, the trio heads out. They find a set of spare keys to come in and out of the library and make plans to go back later that night. John has a date with Charlie’s mom so they agree to go right back to the bunker as soon as their parents leave, making up some story about Sam crashing at a friend’s and Charlie and Dean spending the night at Benny’s. Dean’s momentarily distracted from the events of that afternoon as his dad prepares to go out on a date. It’s weird to even think about him with another woman; it’s not like John’s abstained ever since his wife died, but it certainly is the first time he’s making a decent effort to actually see one, more than once, romantically. It scares the shit out of Dean but also makes him hopeful that someday his dad will find some sort of relationship like the one he had with their mom.

They drop John off at Charlie’s where her mom is waiting, dressed lovely with her hair done up and pretty, to drive them to the restaurant. Afterwards, they get two pizzas to go and head back to the library again. Going in through the back door, they find the keys still work. Once inside the bunker, Sam gets so absorbed in studying each and every book he can put his hands on that Dean needs to force him to stop and reminds him to eat. With music playing in the background, they read and research, discuss their findings and keep going through the storage and indexes, looking for any clues that might help them solve the mysteries of the past. 

Eventually Dean declares it’s time for Sam to take some rest and forces him to lay down in one of the bedrooms. He offers Charlie to take her home instead of spending the night in one of those old, stiff beds but she declines.

Mentally exhausted and yet too preoccupied to go to sleep just yet, Dean grabs one of the old whiskey bottles from the kitchen and pours himself a drink. Charlie, to his surprise, joins him. They sit together in one of the old-fashioned couches and sigh with some sense of accomplishment after a long day of reading and researching. That’s not how either of them would have imagined spending their Saturday.

“Charlie… do you think Cas could go dark side?”

Charlie huffs a laugh in response and lifts an eyebrow. “No way. You don’t know him like I do.”

Dean stirs the liquid in his glass, lost in thought. “I’m not so sure...”

“Cas is a lot of things, Dean, but he’s not a bad person. Whatever he's going through, it'll pass, I am sure.”

“I saw something in him… last weekend… a, hmm…  _ darkness _ in his eyes. I saw him  _ wanting _ to do something bad, he just didn’t dare. I guess maybe he was afraid of hurting me, cause of the peace treaty, but… he wanted to. He wanted my key, badly. He wants to open that door, Charlie.”

“Can you blame him though?” she replies, shrugging tiredly. Her gut—well, maybe more like her heart will  _ always  _ defend her best friend. “His dad’s trapped on the other side.”

Dean’s still very confused about that. According to some light reading he did about Hell, it’s not just all about fire and eternal damnation like he’d imagined, but another proper world, a whole dimension in itself, with Kingdoms, different cities and regions and what not. This door to Hell goes directly into a very large castle in which the Novaks have lived for generations. Only one hunter had ever dared to cross over, for research purposes, and had detailed what he found there but Dean was too tired to read all about it in one sitting. By what little he gathered, they’re loaded and powerful, that much he knows.

“I can’t let him open the door, Charlie,” Dean shares with her, the responsibility of protecting the key and the door finally weighing down on him. “He’s gonna hate me for it but I can’t let him. Not even for his dad. It’s not safe.”

Charlie doesn’t know what to say to that. She smiles at him sympathetically, not envying the position he's in.

“I bet this sucks for both of you,” she admits. “I would want my family back too but… opening a door to Hell? That’s a pretty big commitment. You’d have to stay back here and guard it. For the rest of your life.”

Dean nods as he stares into nothingness. He’s being presented with an amazing opportunity. Even if it’s a secret, he could lead the most amazing and interesting life ever being a part of this secret society that protects people from the supernatural. He could learn from these books, become a hunter and save who knows how many lives. He could open the door to Hell and help Castiel reunite with his family. But then he thinks about his mother… she died to close that door and keep him safe. It would be a dishonor to her memory to undo that. Not to mention she didn’t want this life for him, she feared—no, she  _ knew _ it ended bloody, more often than not. And so far, she was right for the most part, it almost wiped out their entire bloodline. Was he ready to go down that path? And was he going to let  _ Sammy _ do that too?

Charlie and Dean end up sharing a bed. It starts with her making a joke about not wanting to sleep alone in a bunker that is bound to be cursed or (and?) haunted and Dean offering to stay with her until she was out, and it ended up in a long night of talking in whispers in the dark until they drifted off to sleep. Despite everything that happened that day and the questions that still plague his mind, a part of him is at ease with her by his side. Even if they haven’t known each other long, in his heart she’s quickly becoming the sister he never knew he wanted. He envies Cas a little for having her all his life by his side and wishes he would have met her sooner as well.

They spend Sunday doing pretty much what they had done on Saturday until Dean all but drags them all home. Charlie can’t go back to the bunker by herself since she cannot open the door but Dean makes a mental note to keep an eye on Sammy because he enjoys being in the bunker a little too much. He is protective of him, as if a part of his mother lived in him and hopes Sam grows up to be… well, normal, for lack of a better word, because Dean’s learnt that there’s nothing wrong just wanting to be normal, at peace, with family and friends and some sort of happiness. He doesn’t want Sammy to become a hermit who spends all his time reading about other people’s past lives underground.

On Monday, Charlie and Dean face the music when they realize they’d forgotten to do a ton of homework. Garth lets them copy part of his during lunch but they need to cram and make up arguments and conclusions during a very short window because they can’t all tur up with the exact same results.

“What on Earth did you guys do this weekend?” Benny asks curiously, an amused smirk curving his lips because he’s  _ never _ seen Charlie be behind on her school work before, as he watches them stress.

“Video games,” Charlie responds at the same time Dean says, “movie marathons.”

They both look up for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes reproachfully like the other is an idiot for screwing up and saying something different even though they had not agreed on anything off the bat.

Benny narrows his eyes at them, not buying into their lies at all. “Right… Bradbury, I went over to your house and you weren’t there, so…”

Charlie’s face falls with embarrassment at being caught lying but Benny shrugs it off.

“‘S alright, it’s your business, but you don’t need to lie. I don’t know why y’all are acting so weird lately.”

Over the corner of his eyes Dean watches Charlie literally bite the insides of her cheeks to keep herself from telling her friend the truth. If Dean’s honest with himself, even he is struggling not to tell Benny what they discovered during the weekend but almost on cue Castiel walks over to their table. He moves awkwardly, unsure of himself, with a somewhat dead look in his eyes. He clutches the straps of his backpack almost like his life depends on it. When he reaches their table, Dean’s surprised that Cas looks at all of them when he’s talking, even Dean.

“Hello... I just wanted to, hmm… apologize. For my behaviour. I don’t want to talk about it but it’s been hard at home lately and I haven’t been handling it very well. I’m sorry about Saturday, I didn’t mean to worry you and ruin the party.”

Castiel is not great at lying. Dean hasn’t known him for long but he’s gathered that much still. He’s struggling with something alright, Dean can tell from the  _ everything  _ about Cas—his odd behaviour, the void in his eyes, the constant fidgeting of his hands—but it’s not guilt. Dean’s an expert in guilt, he’d know. There’s something dishonest in his apology, which sounds rehearsed. There’s also a telltale lack of emotion in his voice and if Dean’s reading the table right, his friends can tell as well. However, no one says anything about it. Charlie stares at Castiel like she’s seeing a ghost, eyes wide like the moon, jaw set. Knowing what she’s thinking, Dean kicks her under the table.

Garth is the first to speak. Concerned for his friend, he decides that he’d rather accept Cas’ apology, even if it’s not totally honest and deserving, than turn him away. For his natural kindness, Dean likes him a lot more.

“It’s okay, Cas, we’re just glad you’re okay.”

Benny, face but a little stoic, doesn’t try too hard to hide the unconvinced expression of his face, but he nods in agreement with Garth. “Yeah, brother, why don’t you sit down?”

Castiel smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He lets his backpack slide down his arms and takes a place next to Charlie as she scoots over to make space for him.

“So, why did you guys do this weekend?” 

Glancing around the table, Cas smiles innocently but his question feels charged nonetheless, carrying a strange sense of accusation or expectations. His eyes land on Dean last and they stay there, anchored to him.

Cas knows Charlie and Dean have been to the library, along with Dean’s younger brother. According to Seir, they didn’t stay there for long but Castiel can never be too careful. Something about Seir seemed… a little strange, too. Cas feels like he’s losing his grip though, becoming paranoid and suspecting the one being that has been there by his side protecting him since birth. His familiar, his most loyal friend. He wouldn’t lie to Cas, wouldn't keep things from him… would he? The thought makes him sick to his stomach but these days Castiel is lost enough to even suspect those closer to him. 

Luckily for Charlie, as she wouldn’t be able to lie to the witch with a straight face at the moment, Benny replies for them. “I went fishing with my dad. Watched a movie with Garth on Sunday. These two knuckleheads had their own little party this weekend,” he points between Dean and Charlie while lifting an eyebrow, then looks back at Cas. “I tried calling you to ask if you wanted to join in, but your uncle said you weren’t home.”

“What did  _ you _ do, Cas?” Charlie asks, not smoothly at all. Dean lightly steps his foot on hers again.

Cas shrugs and averts his eyes, leaning away from view as he digs his lunch from inside his backpack. “Not much. Reading mostly.”

“About?” Charlie presses.

Her best friend gives her an odd look, like he’s studying her and trying hard to understand the intentions behind her question without having to ask. Finally, he responds, “ancient Egypt.”

Testing him, she asks, “read anything interesting?”

“Yes, actually,” he responds strangely calmly, giving Dean the feeling that he knows she’s testing him and he’s cunning enough to be able to play along. “Did you know they used crocodile dung as contraceptive? Dry dung was inserted into the—”

“Don’t!” Dean begs, holding his hands up before he can finish that thought. The rest of their friends, imagining what comes next, groan in disgust. “Don’t you dare say it.”

Fearless, Cas continues to hold Charlie’s stare, almost as if to dare her to question him again. Finally, they both look away at the same time, dropping the subject completely. A weird silence settles between them. Garth and Benny exchange slightly confused looks, obviously wondering what the hell is wrong with the lot of them. Dean, taking mercy on  _ everyone _ and deciding it’s safer to just change the subject to something innocent, takes charge of the conversation.

“So, do you guys wanna do something this week? My dad says we can hang out on Saturday but you guys gotta go by 9, he’s got a thing early Sunday, so... We could watch a movie tomorrow? Order some pizza?”

Dean glances around the table with that charming smile of his. Benny agrees right away and Garth nods in agreement. Charlie says she thinks she can but she has to deal with her homework today first. Cas announces he’s grounded so he can’t make it.

“This is the most you’re going to see of me for yet another week.” He shrugs tiredly and sighs but, to Dean’s shock, spares him a small smile. It’s odd though, it looks…  _ forced _ . Practised and acted, not like those natural little smiles that he is really capable of.

Dean, slightly weirded out by the interaction, lets it go for the moment but can’t help but notice Castiel interacts with him a lot more since then. For starters, he stops pretending Dean doesn’t exist. He’s not sure what the hell is going on. Is Cas  _ truly _ sorry, in some degree or another, about his behaviour and he’s just bad at apologizing or what? If he is, what changed his mind? Dean can’t help but be suspicious  _ and _ intrigued. Much like Garth, he’s somewhat worried about Cas, he can’t help himself. Something haunts his friend, keeps his shoulders tense and his blue eyes dark. Dean wishes he didn’t care, he wishes he didn’t still like him but he does. It’d be better to put some space between them. The problem is Dean’s already growing fond of Benny, Garth and Charlie and doesn’t want to sacrifice three potentially valuable friendships for an odd witch that doesn’t like him too much. They’ll just have to learn to live around each other, Dean figures. 

Something incredibly stupid in Dean pushes him towards Castiel, tells him not to give up hope, even when it seems like a terrible idea. He knows it might even be dangerous to get close to Cas, the witch that wants to steal the key to Hell and open the door their mothers died to close, but Dean’s gut tells him there’s something odd, something  _ wrong _ with Castiel and Dean can’t help but want to help him. Cas might hate him or pretend to, but undoubtedly a part of him also fancies Dean. He wouldn’t have kissed Dean if he didn’t, even if it was just for the physical gratification. And Dean, a known masochist, recklessly gets the idea in his head that he might be able to save the witch from himself. If he’s truly as good as Charlie says he is, then he’s worth fighting for. So on Tuesday afternoon when everyone but Cas is at Dean’s, he convinces the group to drive to the Novaks’ and convince Gabriel to let him hang out with them. Friendship, Dean thinks, might just save Cas as it saved Dean. Love, compassion, building good memories alongside his friends, all that nice shit Dean fought so hard to finally find and doesn’t want Castiel to lose at his expense.

Surprisingly, Gabriel is not hard to convince at all. He opens the door to see the four of them standing there and seems as bewildered as usual to get visitors. Dean starts to wonder if the land is cursed or something because it always puts his friends on edge, just as Charlie reacted to the bunker. 

“Hello, Mr Novak,” Dean starts, looking at Gabriel with new eyes now that he knows he’s a witch, over a hundred years old and actually Castiel’s brother, not his uncle. The funny part is, Dean totally sees him as a witch, what with his playful arrogance and eccentric behaviour. 

Gabriel practically winces at the formal greeting. “Please call me Gabriel. Mr Novak was my grandfather. You’re here for Castiel, I assume.”

“I know he’s grounded but we were wondering if he could come over my place to—”

“Yeah, sure,” the other agrees right away before Dean can get to the part where he swears his dad will be present and nothing crazy will happen. 

Just in time, Castiel appears from the kitchen, chewing a piece of banana and holding the rest in his hand. He too looks absolutely taken aback by their presence, stopping dead in his tracks right away.

“It’s your lucky day, Cas,” Gabe announces with a cheeky grin and he gestures towards his brother’s friends, “you’re not grounded anymore. Go have fun with your friends.”

Gabe slaps Cas playfully in between his shoulder blades, causing him to choke on what he was chewing. Cas coughs violently and throws daggers at his brother with his eyes. He seems just as surprised and confused by the turn of events as the rest of his friends.

“Really?” he asks when he recovers.

“Sure,” Gabe grins.

The brothers stare at each other for a few seconds, one grinning, the other still perplex, then Cas finally slowly starts dragging his feet out of the door.

“Okay…”

Before Castiel gets a foot out the door though, Gabriel puts an arm in his chest and says in an enigmatic way, “don’t do anything your friends wouldn’t do.”

Dean’s confused and wonders what that means, but Cas knows exactly what Gabriel’s trying to say; stay out of trouble, have a normal, mortal-like night with your friends. 

“We’re just going to watch a movie,” Garth, bless his soul, assures Gabriel with a sweet smile.

Gabriel points a finger at him and winks once. “I’m taking your word for it, boss.” The oldest Novak fishes for money in his pocket and hands it to Cas; it is way too much money for whatever they may need, but he doesn’t even check the amount. “Pizzas are on me.”

A chorus of  _ thank you _ s follows, then the group starts heading back to the car but they don’t get far before Gabriel calls Dean.

“Winchester, may I have a quick word with you?”

Dean turns but towards Castiel, to gauge his reaction. He’s frowning in the direction of his brother, just as taken aback by the request as Dean. He finds that even more mysterious.

“Sure… you guys go ahead and wait in the car, I’ll be there in a sec,” Dean tells them.

Castiel wants to argue and stay back, to know why his brother would want to talk to Dean, but he has the feeling Gabriel will find an excuse to be alone with Dean whether he likes it or not, so he just sucks it up and goes along with his friends, playing the part of this easygoing, calm person he’s supposed to be.

Dean watches his friends go, gives them time to put some space between them and the house to make sure the conversation is private, then walks back to the door where Gabriel is waiting. The man’s face has changed, from his usually playfully mischievous expression to more serious and urgent.

“Now you listen to me carefully, Dean-o. I know you found the bunker and if you have half the skills your grandpa did, by now you know what we are.”

It’s like a solid weight drops in Dean’s stomach. Something about Gabriel admitting he’s a witch without any reservations and confronting Dean about it is scary, he’s not cocky enough to deny the oldest Novak isn’t somewhat intimidating. After all, Dean’s read all he’s capable of.

“How—?”

“A crow has been following you around, have you noticed?” Dean nods, he knows exactly what bird Gabriel’s talking about. “It’s Seir, Castiel’s familiar. He told me you spent an awful lot of time in the library this weekend. In fact, you spend the night there. That can only mean one thing.”

“Does Cas—?”

Gabriel shakes his head quickly, twice. “We thought it’d be better if he doesn't know for now. He’s been—”

Abruptly, he stops talking, pressing his lips into a thin line. Dean’s dying to know just about  _ what _ Castiel has been up to, especially if it worries someone like Gabriel, but he has the feeling Gabriel won’t tell him even if he asked. 

Gabe exhales sharply and looks at Dean straight in the eyes. “Look, he’s a good kid and if you hurt him in any way I will put you and your family through Hell.”

As threatening as he might try to sound, all Dean hears is a big brother worrying about his younger sibling instead of a dangerous witch promising torture and revenge. He can’t help but relate and sympathize, wondering what he’d do if Sam was a witch and in some sort of trouble.

“If you know what’s best for you, for  _ all  _ of us, keep your mouth shut and just—act normal, okay? Watch a movie with him, play video games. Invite him to hang out. Integrate him back into the group, his friends are good for him and he’s been… isolating himself. Fix that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Is he dangerous?”

“No! No...” Gabriel replies right away but there’s still an edge of concern in his tone. Then he continues, softly this time, “no, he’s just… a little lost, okay? Lonely. Confused. And the more alone he is, the easier it is for his…  _ dark side _ to overwhelm him. But he’s not dangerous. Look, I’ve got it under control and I have no intention of breaking our families’ alliance. He just needs his friends back, he thinks you’re replacing him. I can’t curse you but I can curse the rest of them to hate you, so help me out here.”

Dean blinks a couple of times, needing a moment to process the constant changes in tone in Gabriel’s discourse. “Are you threatening me?”

Gabriel sighs and gives him an apologetic look. It seems difficult for him to say it, but eventually he apologizes. “Sorry, old habits die hard. Threats are the common currency in Hell, you know? I guess… I’m asking for your  _ help _ . Help me help him.”

Almost automatically Dean knows he’s going to say yes. Because if Gabriel is worried, then he’s worried too. Because he can relate to a big brother who wants nothing more than for his baby bro to fit in and have friends and be happy and because he wants that for Castiel too, even if he’s a dick to him sometimes. Dean wonders if there’s an ulterior motive for this request but he decides that the uneasiness about Gabriel seems genuine enough.

“Okay, I’ll… see what I can do.”

Satisfied with the answer, Gabriel nods and smiles. “Okay. Now get out there and tell Cas I hired you do help me fix some things around the house.”

“Wait,  _ what _ ?”

“He’s going to get suspicious. Tell him we were negotiating your hourly rate and I’ll see you next week after I get the stuff we need. I’ll pay you good money. Now go.”

With one final victorious grin, Gabe pats him on the shoulder and closes the door in his face. Dean stares at the door for a few seconds before he finally gets his feet to move and joins his friends in the car.

Castiel is indeed suspicious. From the distance he couldn’t see at all his brother and Dean’s faces so he couldn’t get a feeling of what they might be talking about. Truth be told, he has no clue why Gabriel would want to speak to Dean privately.

When Dean finally rejoins them, Cas asks, “everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, your brother was just telling me he needs help fixing some things around the house, I said I could help so I guess you’ll be seeing more of me, Cas,” Dean tells him and smiles at him through the rear view mirror, not in a mocking way but somewhat hesitatingly, gauging his reaction. 

The witch simply nods in acknowledgement and forces himself to return the smile. He’s not sure how he feels about this new information. It both works in his favour and makes him uneasy.

The thing is, Castiel has decided to follow his newfound instincts and go dark side. Well, as dark as he can go given the circumstances. Fuck Dean Winchester and true love and giving up his magic. No way in Heaven! His magic has been the only consistent part in his life, he’s not about to give it up for some  _ guy _ that shows up and kisses the breath away from him. Cas will do whatever it takes to get his parents back, so he is following Gabriel’s advice and will try to seduce Dean into giving him the key willingly. He doesn’t care if Dean’s feelings get hurt in the process. Why should he? Dean does nothing but steal his friends, his place, and who knows what else he’ll do when he finds out what the Novaks truly are. Dean’s brought nothing but problems for him so in Castiel’s mind, he has it coming. It’s the witch’s way and he’s finally learning to embrace the life; take what you want, what you need, no matter the cost. After being good for so long, he owes it to himself to be selfish and seek those gratifications Satan so graciously offers his children.

Thus, Dean spending more time around him works out for his plan but at the same time having him in his  _ home _ feels like a little too much. It’s not like he could automatically guess the Novaks are witches just by looking around the house, the one room that holds all the proof is supposed to be secret and his grandmother’s ghost can simply stay away until the visitor it gone, but nonetheless it’s risky to shamelessly invite such a perceptive person in. Whether Cas would like to admit it or not, Dean  _ definitely  _ has hunter blood running through his veins. He’s sharp and observant, probably smarter than he gives himself credit for, and his eyes and mind aren’t affected by the protective spells that usually help keep people away from the house. 

Cas will have a word about it later with Gabe. Meanwhile he’s more worried about the seducing Dean part of his plan. Needless to say, Castiel is painfully aware that he lacks the social skills to be seductive. He doesn't have that natural charm Dean has, hence the difference between them; whereas Cas has only ever had one steamy makeout session with Inias that turned really awkward really fast, Dean’s got a long list of people he’s been with and ten times more experience than him in every regard. He feels like the worst example of a witch ever; he’s awkward where he should be appealing, quiet when he should be good with words and just absolutely lacking the instincts that should help him through his inexperience. Holding onto the fact that they’re soulmates, he hopes that  _ somehow _ Dean will fall for his trap nonetheless, attracted by the fate that wants to bring them together like a fly is attracted to the light of a street lamp.

Dean’s house is small but sort of cozy. It’s clearly lacking some feminine touch and decorations that come from living in the same place for a while and accumulating mementos, but it’s still welcoming and has clearly been recently renovated with care and patience. 

Sam is doing homework in the kitchen and automatically gives Castiel a disapproving look before he gathers his things and walks to his bedroom. Garth, Charlie and Benny sit down on the couch and continue arguing what game they should play; Charlie wants to play Clue but Benny doesn’t want to because she wins 90% of the time which takes the fun out of it. Dean goes to the kitchen to get something to drink for Cas, as per his request, and asks him what he wants over his shoulder. Cas seizes the opportunity and follows him, standing very close to Dean, practically breathing down his neck as if the concept of personal space was foreign to him.

“Water is just fine,” he responds in a quiet voice that has Dean jumping off his skin and turning around, surprised. He had obviously not expected Cas to stand so close to him, now he finds himself practically trapped between the counter and Castiel’s body. Inadvertently, his eyes go south to stare at Castiel’s lips for a second too long, as they usually do, before they go up again.

The reaction Cas causes in Dean pleases him but he doesn’t stop to ponder why. It could be because it satisfies him how easily Dean could fall for his trap… or it could be simply because he actually likes Dean’s attention.

Dean clears his voice. “Okay…”

Despite being clearly tense by Castiel’s closeness, Dean doesn’t try to move away.

In a low and controlled voice, attempting to come off as really remorseful, he tells Dean, “Dean, I really am sorry about how I’ve treated you. I’ve been really unfair to you. I’d really like us to be friends.”

Dean’s quiet for a moment as he considers this apology. He pours water into Cas’ glass and turns off the water. His hand rests on the faucet for a second before he finally looks up. Castiel can’t quite read the look on his face. Dean seems torn which is not what Cas had been expected.

“I’d like that too,” Dean agrees. “I just… wish you’d trust me. You know you can trust me, right? With anything.”

The intensity in Dean’s eyes catches him off guard and kills the arrogance in him. With just his eyes, Dean’s trying to tell him something and yet he doesn’t just come out and say it. Fear gripping his heart, for a moment Castiel wonders if Dean  _ knows _ , if he’s figured it out…

But the moment’s gone when John comes in from the door leading into the garden. Dean moves a few steps away from Castiel as his father smiles widely when he sees the boy he once was so familiar with.

“Castiel! It’s so nice to see you again, look at you all grown up.” Before Cas knows what is happening, John is pulling him into a one arm hug, patting his back like they’re old friends. Then he stands back and gives him a once-over. “Wow, you really look like your old man! Except for your eyes, you’ve got your mom’s eyes.”

“Thanks?” Cas responds, not really knowing what to say. Judging by the memories of a younger Dean that he’d seen in the mirror, he hadn’t expected John to be so friendly. This man looks very different from the drunk mess that  _ sort of  _ raised Dean and dragged him around the country on a rampage of self-destruction. 

“I’m glad to see you two are finally getting along, Dean was dying to meet you.”

Dean goes red in the face, mortified. “Dad!”

John barks a laugh and pats his son in the arm before walking back the way he came. Over his shoulder, he shouts, “I wouldn’t be doing my job right if I didn’t embarrass you a little, Dean!”

Dean and Castiel’s eyes meet again. Dean’s still blushing. He mutters something intelligible and heads back into the living room to sit with the rest of his friends, taking his place on a pillow on the floor around the coffee table. 

Pretending or not, Castiel has a good time with his friends. It’d be so easy to forget they were all ready to basically exchange him for Dean but he doesn’t. Despite the calm exterior he presents to his friends, inside Castiel is still pretty much stewing in his resentment. However, as the time goes by and they forget all about the games they were going to play to just chat and eat pizza, it’s easier to act the part. He was never the most outspoken to begin with so he only needs to say a few words here and there and laugh when the others do. His friends, who are genuinely funny, make it easy. It’s the most normal afternoon he’s had in a while and it’s not bad at all. Afterwards, Dean drives him home. Cas doesn’t try anything because Benny offers to accompany them but Cas still makes an effort to talk to Dean, meet his eyes and be nice to him. Dean really seems to like the change in their dynamic. A malicious side of Castiel credits that to Dean being easy, another reminds him Dean’s  _ supposed _ to like him because they’re  _ supposed _ to be together… but he would rather not think about that.

When Castiel gets home he confronts Gabriel about his conversation with Dean and hiring him to help around the house.

“I’m sure we could do just fine fixing things with magic,” Cas suggests.

His home, his land, is where he can be free and express his magic. This is the place where the spirits come and talk to him, where he can cast spells and curses and do whatever he wants. All of that is gone the moment a hunter is around.

“Some things require meticulous hands-on work, Cas, and I rather have a mortal do it than myself. I figured since you’re trying to get in his pants you wouldn't mind having him around.”

Despite himself, Cas can’t help but blush a little. “You could have asked me.”

Gabriel huffs and lifts an eyebrow. “I don’t need to ask you permission for anything. Unless you want to change the roof tiles yourself?”

Cas rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“That's what I thought,” Gabriel mutters. “Now drop the attitude, Cas. Go do your homework or something.”

Truth be told, Castiel has been neglecting his studies. Well, his mortal studies at least. Lately he had been more interested in his immortal side and what he could learn from it. Following the lead of the spirits of the three sisters, he tries new things. He plays with Hellfire inside the satanic church because, should it get out of control, the protective spells should be able to contain it long enough for him to stop the fire. He plays with life and death, killing all the flowers in the front lawn of the town’s biggest church, watching one wither and decay in his own hands before he causes all the rest to die, and bringing back a bird from the dead. The poor thing seems a little off as it flies away. He doesn’t think he did it right but the sisters tell him he’ll get better if he keeps practising. He doesn’t try again though because he doesn’t find any other dead animal and he’s not tempted enough, at least yet, to kill an animal just to play Frankenstein with it. Besides, if Gabe found out he would flip out; necromancy done wrong can bite you in the ass, creating animals that are dangerous, touched with darkness. Some plagues humans thought were created by new diseases throughout history were actually failed necromancy experiments. The boldest thing Cas does is burn a church; it is an abandoned little building outside of town, sure, but in Satan’s book it is still a great mischief to burn holy ground with hellfire. 

However, as the things he needs to study for school begin to pile up, he uses this as an excuse to spend time with his friends—hence, Dean. They stay behind after school a few times that week, for an hour or two, doing homework in the library. They can’t talk much but Dean and Cas still steal a few glances in each other’s directions nonetheless. The witch looks up from his homework at times to find Dean distractedly glancing at him but soon as their eyes meet, Dean averts his eyes. There’s something curious behind his composed face and Cas can’t help but wonder what’s going on in Dean’s mind. Despite these weird exchanges between them, even hanging out in silence with his friends is pretty calming. As he focuses on his homework, Castiel can’t help but forget for a little while of his ulterior motives and plans. For just an hour he’s a boy, in his senior year, occasionally bumping his feet with Dean’s under the table by accident.

Benny organizes a fishing trip for that weekend. He’s also not one to talk much, at least not about things that really matter, but his lighthearted demeanour is a telltale sign that he’s glad Cas is done bitching about Dean. On Saturday morning—not too early, though, as Dean  _ and _ Charlie refuse to get out of bed anytime before 9 am—Dean picks up the whole lot of them and follows Benny’s instructions to a nearby provincial park with good fishing spots. Benny’s in his element outdoors, with his hiking boots and proper fishing gear. The rest of them have either very old stuff they found in the closet from fishing when they were kids or had to borrow some of Benny’s dad stuff, like Dean. Out of all of them, Dean and Cas are the worst prepared of the group; they are the only ones who end up going with sneakers which proves to be a very bad idea because the trail leading up to the river is muddy as Hell (Cas blames himself for that, as he made it rain like crazy for days on end not too long ago) and their shoes become completely soaked within minutes. It sucks to hike with wet feet, even if it’s only 30 minutes, but at least the weather is nice enough that they can walk around barefoot once they reach the river. While the others prepare for fishing, Dean and Cas sit down on rocks and take their shoes and socks off, laying them down to dry.

“I brought extra socks. You can have them on the way back, if you want,” he offers.

“Oh… Thanks.”

“You know how to fish?”

Castiel shakes his head. “Not really. I’ve been fishing before, Benny drags us out here every once in a while. But I suck, I rarely ever catch anything. Do you?”

“I’ve been fishing plenty of times. Living on the road, we spent our fair share of time in camping spots. Fishing is one of the few activities my brother and I could do to kill the time.”

“But you don’t have a fishing rod?”

“No. We would mostly, hmm… borrow it. Without asking.”

An embarrassed smile pulls at the corners of Dean’s lips. Stealing, that’s what better defines what he did.

Cas can’t help but be curious. “What was it like? Living on the road, I mean.”

“It sucked,” Dean responds without reservations. He doesn’t even need to think about it, it is just a fact. “There were a few good things about it. I got to see the entire country. I met a lot of interesting people and got really street smart. I left behind anyone I didn’t want to see again in a matter of days. I learned a lot, like how to light a fire or hunt for food down to the whole skinning of the animal—nasty business, never liked it, but it beats being hungry. But... yeah, it sucked. We slept in the shittiest motels, or camping spots, even abandoned places a few times. We had our fair share of nights sleeping in the car or in the ground when it was nice outside. I tried to look after my brother as much as I could, my dad was a mess, big time. Our education was a mess too, we moved so often it wasn’t even worth it buying the books most of the time. Sam still has potential but me?” 

He sighs and shakes his head. There it is again, the weight of the future stirring something nasty in his stomach. His rocky childhood has done nothing but crush his self esteem and hopes of a good future and as he gets closer to graduating, he begins to really worry about what the future holds for him.

“I’ll be lucky to graduate high school.” he continues. “Food security was a problem. Saying goodbye to friends just when we started making them sucked big time. Eventually I stopped even trying. It was easier that way.”

“Do you think it’ll work this time?”

Dean shrugs and fidgets with his shoelaces, opening up his shoes to help them dry up faster. He takes so long speaking again, Castiel thinks he’s not going to get an answer.

“Honestly, I’ll be content if it works out for my dad and Sam. That’s all I want. Anyway, enough about me. Come on, I’ll help you catch a fish.”

And so Dean teaches Cas how to fish, even if he’s already tried it a few times. He shows him the moves and helps him put the worm in the hook as bait because neither Castiel or Charlie want to touch it. Dean doesn’t love it but he doesn’t mind either and they seem to be really thankful for his services.

They sit together on the rocks again, their jeans rolled up, feet on the water, and end up talking more than fishing—except for Benny, he takes fishing  _ seriously. _ They discuss what they want to do for Halloween and studying for the upcoming exams. Charlie instantly makes plans to get together with Cas for that as they have been studying partners for a long time now. Cas can’t deny a part of him is glad he’s still her first option. It’s hard for him to stay mad at her as she splashes her feet on the water and rambles on like she always does, like it’s all forgiven and there’s nothing better than this, spending time together under the sun. There’s something about her that calms him down, tames that side of him that lately wants him to argue and rebel. Under the sunlight, with his friends’ laughter in his ears, he kinds of forgets he’s supposed to be mad at them.

He does remember, however, that he’s supposed to seduce Dean because when the other boy opens his shirt a little and rolls up his sleeves, Cas looks away like a shy schoolgirl when he should be trying to make some kind of advancement on him. He wants to look, he’s past the point of denying he’s physically attracted to Dean but he still doesn’t want to be caught looking. Plus, with all his friends present, it’s even harder to make a move on Dean. He needs to get Dean alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gifs: tumblr sources:  
> record player: polilla-astral web  
> church: mikaeled  
> flowers: in-love-with-movies  
> landscape: leahberman  
> fishing: chailame


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. I am going on a little trip for a few days so I'm not sure I'll be able to update. Maybe yes, maybe no, we'll see, but either way I won't be gone long.

Sunday finds Charlie, Sam and Dean digging through the files in the bunker. Their objective: find out what worried Castiel’s mom so much that she turned on her own family to close the door to Hell. It had to be something important, something big, because for what Dean gathers from his mother’s journal, Clarice was head over heels in love with her husband, happily married and with no obvious reason to betray him. For the time being they decide to leave everything and anything related to the occult and the supernatural in the bunker. First of all because they don’t want to give Castiel any suspicion that they know what he is, secondly because the books there are invaluable and irreplaceable and Sam makes a fuss about Dean not taking proper care of them, and last but not least because John gets a bit freaked out when he finds Dean’s collection of books about witches and it gets really awkward there for a moment with John reaching out to Dean to make sure he hasn’t lost his marbles.

Dean had warned Sam not to spend all Saturday cooped up underground by himself while he was fishing, to go out and get some fresh air with his friends, or Dean would be forced to try and find some way to lock him out of the bunker. Thankfully Sam listened to him, but the next day he was eager to go back to his research. After hours of reading, even though they found nothing that could help them clear up the mystery of Clarice Novak, they were able to find more details about the murders that happened all those years ago, including copies of all police and medical reports. The information was recorded and logged into a journal by the boys’ grandfather who added three victims to the list of people who had been attacked, one of whom had survived, even though the local police had labelled these as accidents.

The first victim ever was Cara Mayers. This girl, almost 17 at the time, had gotten lost in the woods during a party and died of exposure or some sort of injury; the cause of death couldn’t really be determined because animals attacked her body and damaged it severely. Although Samuel Winchester could not find any evidence of witchcraft that could indicate the Novaks had broken their side of the deal or any other sign that there was another type of creature around that he could blame for the accident, he still wrote it down as a highly suspicious death. There were just too many fishy things about that case; the fact that they couldn’t tell how she died or that the girl had lived around the area all her life and was, according to her parents, very familiar with those woods. The cops said she was probably intoxicated and lost her way. Although reports have her friends swearing she didn’t drink that night, the police argued they were probably just trying to save her reputation. The medical examiner stated he could not clearly determine if the victim had been drinking or not due the state of the corpse and how long it took to find her (it was a full day before she was reported missing and a day and a half later by the time the remains were found), 

The second victim was Teddy White, only a week later after the estimated time of death of Cara. Teddy was a week past five when he fell from the swing and died. His mother had looked away for only 5 minutes to go to the bathroom. When she returned she saw her baby through the kitchen window laying flat on the grass, unconscious. Reports said he died of a very unfortunate head injury. This is when he Campbells started to doubt these were accidents at all. Teddy’s mom killed herself not long after, unable to cope with the guilt and the loss of her boy.

Richie Woods was the third victim and the one who survived. The incident had happened 8 days after Teddy’s unfortunate death. Richie had a freaky car accident which he barely survived, followed by a severe mental breakdown. He told his doctor something was out to get him, that he saw something evil out in the road that night and that he only survived because two families happened to drive by almost immediately after the accident, scaring away whatever evil wanted to hurt him before it could finish the job. Richie had to spend some time in a mental institution and never returned to town, not even to get his belongings, he just had everything shipped elsewhere. 

Charlie actually knows this story, to this day there are several urban legends about what’s out there in the woods, watching the road from the seclusion of the darkness, waiting to strike. She’d never believed it before, until the day they saw that goddamn demon in the middle of the road.

“Do you think it was that thing we saw?” she asks. She sounds scared.

“I don’t know,” Dean responds. “If it is, we’re in big trouble. It means whatever was attacking people back in the day might still be around.”

Charlie swallows hard while the three of them exchange concerned glances.

“Should we do something about it?” Sam asks almost as if he was making a proposal.

“No,” Dean responds right away. The last thing he wants is for his brother to go up against some murderous demon that not even their grandparents, who had their entire lives to learn about the supernatural, were able to put down before it got them first. “Let’s assume it’s the same thing for a moment; it hasn’t attacked anyone in years. I think—I think this time it was there for  _ me _ . You know? Like… a warning.”

“Warning you from what?”

Dean, completely clueless, shrugs. “I don’t know. My guess it’s something related to Cas. Maybe it wants me to stay away from him? Maybe it didn’t want me to learn the truth about him? Or to intimidate me?”

Sam gasps as a thought occurs to him. “What if  _ Castiel _ sent the demon?” his brother, who isn’t Castiel’s biggest fan at the moment, suggests.

“Nah, that doesn’t make sense, does it?” Dean thinks out loud as he leans back in his chair, gaze lost in the ceiling. “If that thing was there since we were kids, Castiel couldn't have controlled it then. Why would he now? And we have already argued, why send the demon after me—after  _ all _ of his friends, if he doesn’t want us to know what he is?”

“Plus Cas wouldn’t do that,” Charlie, always ready to defend her best friend, chimes in without hesitation. “No matter how angry he was at any of us, he would  _ never _ put us in harm’s way.”

Sam shifts resentfully in his seat, still trying to come up with a way to blame Cas even if he knows it doesn’t make much sense. “He seemed pretty ready to somehow attack Dean that night.”

“But he didn’t, did he?” 

“Touché,” Dean declares before Sam and Charlie end up getting in an argument.

Dean puts his feet down from the table and studies the journal again in his lap again. The fourth victim and third to die was Marina Thompson, a nun. She was stabbed to death nine days after Richie’s car accident. That’s when Samuel reached out to Charles for help. Fearing that they were up against something very powerful and evil, because not just any creature would dare go against a servant of God, Samuel gave Charles the key for safekeeping while he researched the case. Charles then gave it to his wife for he knew the key would be safe at home under the protection of Gabriel and all the spells that surrounded his family’s land, then he took off on what should have been a small trip. Samuel’s notes confirmed what the trio had theorized; Charles went to Hell to look for more information, to ask if anyone he knew could tell him anything about what was happening on Earth. He didn’t make it back before the next murder, that of Dean’s grandparents, exactly a week after the last attack. Someone attacked his grandparents in their own home, something bold and wicked killed them in their sleep, Samuel first. The notes in the journal continue but with someone else’s handwriting;  _ Bobby Singer _ reads the signature.

Dean nearly jumps from his seat; he  _ knows _ Bobby, spent a few days here and there at his place throughout the years when John was at his lowest and left the kids under someone else’s care for a few days. A week was the longest ever, Dean feared and at the same time hoped that John wouldn’t return for them. Bobby was a grump and had a drinking problem himself but not nearly as bad and he was a kind, intelligent and  _ functional _ adult. Dean can totally remember the guy having all sorts of weird books at his place but he had never realized he could be anything more than a religious weirdo who was really into history and lore. He faintly remembers his dad pointing out once that he’d met Bobby through Mary, that he was some sort of old family friend. 

_ Of course he was _ , Dean figures,  _ he was in a secret society with my grandparents! _

Bobby tried to continue with Samuel’s hunt but was not able to prevent the murders of the following victims, Shelby Barnes and Aurora Garcia. All murders continued to happen a week after the other. Aurora was never truly found, she just vanished overnight, but Bobby knew, deep down, that she was gone. By then, Charlie recalls her mom saying, the town was in panic; there was a curfew as all the murders were happening during the night or the very early hours of the morning (all but Teddy, Bobby notes), parents wouldn’t let their children out their sight and people were turning on each other, neighbours suspecting one another like they suddenly didn't know who lived next to them. Police patrolled the streets regularly which made Bobby’s job harder even when he pretended to be one of them.

But then Clarice gave Mary the key, five days after the last murder, and Mary closed the to door to Hell. No murder happened the following week, everything suddenly stopped. Mary died in a fire the next day; it was a freaky accident they said, something about the wires. Two days later, Charlie knows very well, Clarice was reported missing by Gabriel. At least now they know how that story goes; Gabriel truly didn’t have anything to do with her disappearance and she wasn’t just another victim of the psycho that was lurking in their town that was never caught.

They have so much information now and yet there are still so many unanswered questions, puzzles that have been incomplete for over a decade and that they have now inherited from their parents. Dean racks his brain for an explanation but none of the books they go through has the answer. Eventually they call it a night and go home before their parents start wondering where they are. That and Dean still has to study. It’s pretty hard to do it sitting across from Cas and occasionally meeting those gorgeous blue eyes that just  _ do _ things to him.

As much as Dean likes the fact that Castiel is now talking to him, there definitely is something off about him. At least, there was at first. From the moment Castiel apologized, it seemed insincere, forced, like little kids who apologize when their moms force them to but you know damn well they’re still mad at you, they don’t even think they should apologize. Still, everyone goes with it for the sake of avoiding any more drama. For better or for worse, it works. Cas stops pretending Dean doesn’t exist. More than that, he actually listens to what Dean says and responds, he looks at him and even laughs at his jokes, not by accident this time around. He’s making an effort to get along with Dean which he appreciates, but there’s still the fact that Gabriel’s worried about Cas, which worries Dean in return, who still notices the tense demeanour about Castiel. Something about him is just  _ off _ , like he’s sometimes a shell of a person just mimicking what the others do to fit.

Nevertheless, as the days progress Castiel seems to…  _ soften _ . It’s like he forgets to pretend everything is okay and without him realizing, things truly begin to  _ be _ okay. When they have an actual private and real conversation, Castiel asks things about Dean’s life like he actually wants to know, not like he’s just trying to force things between them. Dean figures Gabriel was right and all Cas needed was to feel like he was part of the group again. 

That last train of thought makes him think that maybe if they get along better, if they get closer, then Castiel won’t see him as a competitor, as someone who might replace him in a group, but simply as just another friend. This is all he had wanted from the start, he’s just hoping Cas will finally get on board with it.

Monday afternoon finds Dean driving Castiel home after school. He’s going to be working at the Novaks’ and, quite frankly, he’s a little excited about that. He wonders if he’ll see the ghost again or something else that screams  _ witchcraft _ but instead Gabriel announces he’ll be changing tiles in the roof. Dean doesn’t love the idea but can’t refuse in front of Castiel as it was implied that he had already agreed to this. Maybe he’s imagining it but he thinks he sees Gabriel enjoying his momentary panic. He makes Cas help him though, which Dean isn’t entirely sure is comforting as Castiel holds the ladder Dean needs to use to get up on the roof. He’s not exactly sure he’s already on Castiel's good side, and peace treaty or not, he’s sure Castiel would have loved to shake the ladder on him two weeks ago. 

Dean gets down to business. There are few tiles that need changing and he gets it done without much of a problem but he takes his sweet time to avoid slipping and falling off the roof to a certain death. He tries to peer into the house through the windows but the insides are dark and there’s not much he can see. The roof drainage system needs cleaning and the porch needs to have some wood planks changed. As promised, Gabe has everything ready for him and Dean works rather peacefully in silence while Cas just watches for the most part. The silence wouldn’t bother Dean if the other boy didn’t seem somehow tense and fidgety, like he wants to say something but won’t get it out. Other than that, Dean actually doesn’t mind working with his hands, getting things done gives him a sense of accomplishment, like he’s making himself useful at once.

Eventually after two hours of work Dean sits on the porch for a break. Sweat runs down the side of his face and his back. His hands are dirty, he’s sure his face is as well, but he doesn’t mind. For some reason, manual work has always felt good and he’s not trying to impress anybody so he doesn’t care if he’s dishevelled. 

Cas, who had walked back into the house at some point without saying a word, comes back out holding two glasses of lemonade. Silently, he takes a seat next to Dean in the steps of the porch and without even looking at him, he offers him one of the glasses.

“Thanks.”

Castiel nods. They sit in silence for a moment before Cas finally finds something to say.

“You’re very good at this. I would have probably fallen off the roof and broken my neck.”

“I was just praying you wouldn’t shake the ladder,” Dean grins playfully. When Castiel stays serious, looking but a little guilty, Dean bumps their knees and says, “I’m just kidding.”

Still lost in his thoughts, Cas smiles half-heartedly, eyes glued on his lemonade. Sensing that he needs some help with words, Dean takes the charge.

“I did a lot of small, odd jobs here and there growing up. We needed all the money we could get so...Picked up some skills along the way. I’m really good at working with my hands. Working with cars is what I like the most.”

“Is that what you’d like to do? After school, I mean.”

Dean nods. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve wanted to be a firefighter ever since… you know, my mum... so I’ll go to college to get some diploma related to it, and do mechanic work on the side.”

Rather shily, as if feeling stupid for asking, Cas mumbles, “firefighters need diplomas?”

“Not necessarily, for the most part you can get in with a high school diploma, but still, I’d like to get one. You know, do the whole college experience for a while. A two year diploma will do, something in fire science. I’d also like to take some classes related to mechanics and cars. My dad taught me a lot but I wanna know more. How about you?”

“I want to be a professor in religious studies,” Cas says matter-of-factly, like he sees the next 10 years ahead of him planned out and figured out.

Dean can’t help but chuckle, thinking back of when he imagined Cas being a sexy professor that had his students mooning over him. In his daydreams, Cas has a coat with patches on the elbows and all.

A little defensively, Cas turns to face Dean. “Why is that funny?”

Dean shakes his head. “Nothing, I just totally see you being a professor. You have the whole vibe.” He gestures with his hands up and down in Castiel’s direction, unknowingly biting his bottom lip as he imagines a deliciously older Cas in his 30-somethings teaching a lecture. Everything about him would be proper and tidy, except for his eternal bed hair. “Get ready to break some hearts, Cas.”

Castiel tilts his head, confused. 

“Why?”

“Oh, come on. You know, the serious, sexy professor fantasy? You tick all the boxes.”

“You think I’m sexy?”

Dean’s mouth hangs open in silence like a deer caught in the headlights. A part of him kind of meant it, another can’t believe he actually said it, but Cas is finally catching on, a sly smiling spreading slowly across his face.

Cas realizes hitting on Dean will be easier than he thought; he only needs to let the other lead the conversation and from time to time catch Dean hitting on  _ him _ , either on purpose or by accident. Dean is the type of guy who is more impulsive with his words so Cas should have plenty of opportunities.

“I mean, you’re not terrible to look at,” he eventually responds, muttering in embarrassment with his eyes fixed on the lemonade. Castiel’s knowing smile grows wider.

He tips his head back, taking a long swig of his glass and sets it on the porch steps next to his feet. Then he gets up and runs the few steps down before turning around to wave at Cas.

“I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

“Goodbye, Dean.”

Tuesday is a lot like Monday. They have lunch together at school, Dean taking his place next to Castiel on purpose, then heading to the Novaks’ together in the afternoon. This time Cas helps Dean with his chores, together the two boys bring back some order into the garden that surrounds the house. Remembering the ghost he saw weeks earlier, he can’t help but glance in the direction of the swing with mistrust, like he’s just waiting for something to happen.

The weather is nice, leaning on cold, but the physical work under a clear sky has Dean sweating and panting. Cas is sweating too, his shirt sticking to his back in a way that catches Dean’s eyes. He can’t help but stare. Indeed Castiel is not bad to look at at all, with that ever messy hair and those plump lips that he keeps wetting with his tongue as his mouth runs dry. Dean’s hooked, he knows it  _ and _ Castiel probably knows it too. He’s starting to think maybe that’s not a bad thing, maybe Cas is looking back at him with just as much desire in his eyes. Or Dean’s just imagining things, but he doesn’t think so, not with how Castiel's been acting around him lately. He’s hopeful that the other boy has  _ finally _ warmed up to him, or more.

When they finish for the day, Dean and Cas sit on the porch once again, back sores and legs tired but with a feeling of accomplishment as they look around the lovely garden. It’s not back to its former glory, the way Clarice kept it, but it’s definitely an improvement.

“It hasn’t looked this good in years,” Cas comments. “Thanks for helping.”

Dean shrugs. “I mean, I  _ am _ getting paid.”

“Still, thank you,” Cas insists gently, sincerely. In a tired tone, he says, “Gabriel’s tried to hire people before, landscapers but, well, you know what they say about the land. People are afraid to come here. People are afraid of  _ us _ .”

Looking at Cas from the corner of his eyes Dean finally thinks he understands Charlie’s way of thinking. This is all Cas is, a gentle, misunderstood soul with a heavy secret on his shoulders. He wishes he could tell him the cat is already out of the bag, he doesn’t have to carry the heavy load anymore. Dean knows, Charlie knows… There’s no more reason to hide, yet Gabriel’s warning stops him from saying more than what he does next.

“I’m not afraid of you.” Dean smiles at him, eyes warm like the sun above them. And he means it. Despite all the power Castiel has, which goes beyond what Dean can even comprehend, he trusts that Castiel won’t hurt him, he trusts Charlie’s judgement. “And I’m also glad you’re finally talking to me. Dude, I know that you worry that… that I’m going to  _ replace _ you or something. But you have nothing to worry about. Your friends love you, Cas. Trust me. I know things have been sort of weird or tense between you and the guys but they say nothing but nice things about you, all the time, I swear. And I don’t  _ want _ to replace you anyway, you’re one of a kind.”

Dean puts a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and squeezes gently before sucking in a breath and letting go, blushing by the simple touch as he jumps to his feet. Castiel looks down at his feet, hugging his knees as he continues to be lost in his thoughts, frowning. He looks constipated, like Dean’s words did nothing but stir something inside him instead of calming the troubled waters of his mind and his relationship with his friends. For the hundredth time, Dean wishes he could read his mind. Or even better; that Cas would open up to him and  _ tell him _ what he’s thinking about.

“See ya, Cas.”

The following two days Dean has to skip work and focus on school as he really needs to study. He has completely given up on the idea of having good grades and by this point his entire GPA is an offensive joke, but he still aims for passing and graduating in time. That alone would be a miracle. Halloween is coming right up and they have plans for the weekend, plans John agrees to  _ only _ if Dean focuses on his studies for a few days. Dean is kind of impressed with John for putting some boundaries and he actually follows them, not because his dad has any real authority over him at this point when it comes to Dean’s education but just to show support. 

As the days pass, Dean notices that Castiel’s mood improves. They all do, they just don’t talk about it out of politeness but it’s obvious they’re all more relaxed and happy as the tense underlying atmosphere fades away with time. That darkness and seriousness in Cas’ eyes gradually melts away. He starts laughing distractedly instead of on cue just because the rest do, and his additions to their conversations are born more out of interest than just sheer stubbornness to participate. When he interacts with Dean, it’s sincere and natural instead of forced and weird, and something a lot like friendship starts to bloom between them. Slowly but surely Dean gets to see more and more of the  _ real _ Cas, the one his friends talked about and loved and wanted to see return. He’s still a quiet person but nonetheless he’s attentive and sharp, making smart comments here and there to show he’s listening. He has a lazy, content smile on his lips, the frown in his forehead now gone. It’s a good look on him.

That weekend the gang has big plans, they’re going all in for Halloween, making practically a whole day out of it. First, they get together in the afternoon to watch a horror movie. They’re dressed up in costumes as agreed since they’re going to the school dance afterwards and then a party. At first Dean thought they would stand out but at least half the people at the movies appear to have had their same train of thought. Charlie goes to town with her costume, showing up in a full on medieval outfit, fake wooden sword and all. She announces, very proudly and without a trace of embarrassment, that she is Queen of Moondoor, then proceeds to go into a long explanation into what LARPing is when Dean asks. Garth shows up as a werewolf and Benny as a vampire; Charlie boos them for lack of originality. Dean dresses up as a cowboy and tries not to show how excited he is about it because he  _ loves _ cowboys and this is the first time he gets to hang out with  _ real _ friends on Halloween, the best holiday of the year in his humble opinion. They’re all pretty confused when Castiel shows up in a dark suit and a tanned trench coat.

“I’m an accountant,” he informs them, throwing his arms out like it’s obvious.

Dean snorts, looking at him up and down. “How long did it take you to look  _ accidentally  _ handsome?”

Castiel blushes and fidgets with the hem of his sleeves. Charlie pats his shoulder and exclaims, “no, I get it! You’re a boring adult, that  _ is _ terrifying.”

Laughing, Charlie puts an arm around her best friend’s shoulder and drags him into the cinema. Garth follows them, enthusiastically talking about buying popcorn and sweets before they even get their tickets. Mimicking Charlie and Cas, Benny puts an arm around Dean and follows after his friends.

“Your crush is showing, brother,” Benny whispers in his ear and smirks jokingly. 

Dean can’t help but smile, because it feels good to be called brother by Benny and be close to a friend like this. He feels like he belongs somewhere, for the first time in his life. He has friends, _real_ , good friends. His crush _is_ , undoubtedly, showing and everyone’s okay with it… even Castiel, or so it seems.

The cinema is packed with people. Benny and Dean make the line for the tickets while the other three buy the snacks. They make the line to go in together, moving slowly like cattle through the narrow aisles inside the auditorium. Benny, a hero, manages to go ahead of them so that Dean and Cas end up in the back of the group, thus being the last to be seated. Neither looks at all unhappy about having to sit next to each other, sharing rather shy smiles with each other as they sit down. Castiel keeps one of the big buckets of popcorn in his lap while he’s being sandwiched by Dean and Garth who both reach for the bucket in turns. In the dark, Dean is constantly distracted from the movie, almost painfully aware of how close to Castiel he is and how their hands brush against each other from time to time as they reach for popcorn at the same time. Maybe Dean does it on purpose, to gauge Castiel’s reaction, and maybe he is hopeful to find that Cas makes no effort to move his hand away to end the contact. They find themselves leaning to whisper into each other’s ears, Cas skeptically pointing out things that are just irrational in the plot and Dean trying, for some reason, to defend the writer’s choices even though he knows Castiel is 100% right.

“Horror movies aren’t supposed to make sense,” Dean whispers, amused by Castiel’s critics.

“But it could at least have some proper background research,” Cas points out. “Those sigils aren’t even satan—”

“Shhhhhh!!”

A lady behind them aggressively throws popcorn at them, for the second time. Dean turns around to narrow his eyes at her but Cas grabs him and turns him back around on his seat. Dean grabs the popcorn that landed on his shoulder and offers it to his friend, who accepts happily as theirs has already run out.

“Do you want more popcorn, Cas?”

“Oh, no, it’s okay.”

“I don’t mind. I’ll go get more.”

“I don’t want you to miss anything about this piece of art,” he adds sarcastically, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

“You’ll catch me up later…” Dean whispers back, bumping his elbow against Castiel’s before dashing towards the exit.

Castiel can’t help the comfortable warmth that settles in his chest as he stares after Dean. He’s past the point of denying that he likes receiving Dean’s attention. Not because things are going according to plan, not because he’s getting closer to being intimate enough to Dean to ask him for the key, but just  _ because _ . There’s something about those green eyes and that smile… and seeing Dean happy… Castiel finds himself unwinding and relaxing back into his old self. His bloodthirst subdues and the angry fog that clouded his mind dissipates. He’s not that mad or afraid anymore. Hanging out with Charlie all afternoon on Thursday really helped him calm down too and realize maybe it  _ was _ in his head that Dean was replacing him. Charlie treated him as she always did, like a brother. His relationship with Benny also seems to be getting back to normal. All of a sudden he sort of just remembers why he likes his friends so much and why it was so easy to be himself around them, so at some point he stops pretending to have a good time with them and he just…  _ does _ . He can’t wait for the next time they all hang out.

And he wants Dean to be there too.

Dean comes back with popcorn. When Castiel thanks him, Dean just winks at him and shuffles closer so Cas can whisper into his ear what he’s missed. Dean kind of loves Castiel's hot breath in his neck.

After the movie, they go to a little restaurant to have pizza before the dance. They order two different kinds—one with pepperoni and another with three types of cheese (Benny says that’s overkill, Charlie says his opinion is blasphemy) and tomatoes, plus fries, onion rings and cheese sticks. Then, of course they order dessert. They stay there way more than they had intended to but nobody thinks about checking the time as they’re immersed in an endless game of _what would you rather._ Charlie hasn’t been able to choose an answer, not even once, and it’s driving Dean insane. Castiel, on the other side, deadpans his answers as soon as someone finishes their question like his answer is just a _fact_ and the right one and that drives Charlie crazy in turn. The questions start simple but get crazy with time, until Charlie wants their brains to break so they’re as undecided as she is so she asks if they’d rather lick a cat’s but or eat a handful of maggots. Completely disgusted, Benny pushes his plate of dessert away with a sick expression in his face and decides it’s time to go.

The school dance is fine but they don’t spend a lot of time there. They dance for a while, not too long though as it’s already quite late and they are eager to go to the next party where friends from the other town will be joining them. As kinds from their old school begin to exit the school to go to that same party, they decide to do just that. As they’re getting into the Impala again, Charlie once more riding shotgun, Garth comments, “do you guys think we’ll see that thing on the road again?”

He doesn’t sound particularly worried, like it’s an afterthought, but the way Charlie shivers and throws Dean a worried look has Castiel’s interest spiking.

“What thing, Garth?”

“We saw the weirdest thing,” Benny tells Cas, rather serious for the usually non-nonsense type of guy he is, “this sort of dark figure with—with horns.”

Castiel feels something drop in his stomach, the blood in his veins running cold.

“Horns?”

As Dean turns the engine on, Garth adds, “and scary red eyes.”

Worried, Castiel asks them, “when? Where?”

“The night, hmm, of Elizabeth’s birthday party. When we were driving home when this thing just appeared in the middle of the road, we almost ran into it,” Benny remembers. He stares out the window, not knowing what to think of that night, of what they all saw. He had been fine with the silent agreement they had to not talk about that again, as if he could just put the mystery to rest if nobody brought it up.

Outside the lights have faded, the road is dark.

“And?” Cas presses. Dean looks at him through the rearview mirror, watches him breathe fast, agitated.

“And nothing,” Garth shrugs, “it disappeared.”

“Can we not talk about that, guys?” Charlie pleads, an edge of hysteria in her voice. She doesn’t even want to think about that thing, not now that she has a lot more knowledge about the supernatural and knows that, whatever that thing was, it could have  _ easily _ been a demon because those exist and she has hard proof of it. A part of her wishes she could ask Cas about it, but her agreement with Dean keeps her from saying anything as much as she’d love to. “I feel like if we acknowledge it, it’s gonna come back.”

“So you wanna pretend we didn’t see a spirit—demon—ghost, whatever?” Garth turns to ask, lifting an eyebrow incredulously. Quite contrary to Charlie’s opinion, he doesn't know why they haven’t talked about this  _ more _ . 

“Yeah,” Charlie nods repeatedly while Dean is considerably silent next to her, “that’s exactly what I want. I don’t wanna call it or something.”

Just like that, the topic comes to an abrupt end. Charlie sits in tense silence, anxiously looking out the window. It’s like she’s almost expecting to see something. Cas watches the dark engulf the trees too and also stews in his concern. He wonders what his friends saw, he wonders  _ why _ they saw that. What went after them. He doesn’t like it, not one bit, thinking that there’s something out there that was bold enough to go after his friends. Maybe after Dean, a hunter. Did a spirit go after Dean because he upset Castiel that night? Did he unknowingly wake something up, some spirit that antagonized Dean?

He wonders and he worries. What if he unleashed something on his friends? Castiel would never forgive himself. Even if at the time he had strongly mixed feelings about Dean and a part of him had had some desire to hurt him, he doesn’t wish for that anymore. Something could have happened to his friends, they could have crashed or have some sort of accident. The guilt scrawls up his spine and poisons his mind. He feels sick. Suddenly he’s nervous, an overwhelming urge to protect his friends overcoming him. And there it is again, that feeling—no, that _ knowledge _ that he’s different. Dangerous, even…

But he is strong too, the witch reminds himself with a newfound sense of confidence and resolve. He still has a long way to go learning to control his magic and reaching his full potential, and these past few days he’s been neglecting his training more and more in favor of his mortal life, but he is powerful enough to vanish one stupid spirit should it threaten his friends again. He can use his powers not just to cause pain or to gain something, but to protect his loved ones. Who better than him to make sure  _ nothing _ comes near his friends? He should have been in the car that night with them, maybe then that thing would not have dared manifest itself in front of his friends. He should have been there but he wasn’t. He won’t make that mistake again.

Dean follows his friends’ instructions into a regional park. Down a dirt road they park next to other cars and follow the lights and sound of music until they join the party. There are two big bonfires that illuminate a rather open area by the river and a few people have left the lights of their cars on to illuminate the space further away from the fire. Beyond the mix of white and orange light that touches the first few layers of trees, there’s absolute darkness around them. Someone brought speakers and people are taking turns picking the music. Besides the people Dean saw at Elizabeth’s party, there are some other kids from her town and some from their own school, people they don’t really talk to but seem to be friends with some other people at the party. 

The party has already started by the time they get there. A few have managed to get some alcohol but Cas stays clear from it. There are people gathered in small groups talking by the bonfires, sitting in rocks or logs. A few couples here and there are strolling around the edge of the river pretending the rest can’t see them hold hands. Pamela and Jo run to greet them and to welcome them, quickly convincing Benny to try a new drinking game. Jo eyes Dean with interest, even if she throws Cas a curious and sort of apologetic look in case she’s overstepping. She invites him to play as well but Dean says he’ll only watch this time; he’s the designated driver that night. Charlie looks around the forest nervously and quickly hurries to join Gilda, glad to find something to distract her mind from the demon that could easily be spying on them from some dark corner of the night. Garth, the always unexpected heartbreaker, is enthusiastically greeted by a few girls who fidget with their hair as soon as he waves at them. For a moment, Castiel just takes everything in, his eyes scanning the crowd of young people, then the edge of the forest. Cas is not afraid of the dark but he studies his surroundings nonetheless, trying to find any presence that could be hiding. His guard is up. If something’s out there, he wants to know and he wants to vanish it.

Fully embracing his weirdo status, not caring what others may think, Cas wanders towards the trees, away from the orange light of the fire and its promise of protection. One thing he’s always been is brave, maybe recklessly so but still. And another thing he’ll  _ always _ be is protective of his friends. Even if days ago he was mad at them, if he thought they didn’t want him anymore. Even if the sky comes falling down and the end of the world is upon them, in his heart he wants to believe that he will always be there for them. He wants to be that man, that loyal friend they can count on.

He stands confidently alone facing the darkness, almost defying it, daring it to try something. He finds the presence of  _ something _ lurking around, probably the three sisters that have taken to following him around so much lately. They’re impatient, he figures, unwilling to share Castiel’s time with a mortal. They want something of him; or better yet, they want  _ him _ to become something, probably that which his nightmares show him he could be. He’s not stupid, he’s aware of that. He allows them to teach him, he listens to them although he sets boundaries, but he doesn’t appreciate them popping up where his friends are, where mortals gather in vulnerable places. Cas doesn’t trust them not to be mischievous if he leaves the party early. So far they have never dared manifest themselves in front of or near a mortal, so during the past few days Castiel has seen less of them as he spent more time with his friends again. A part of Cas is glad about it, he finds some peace of mind knowing they won’t come close to his friends, even Dean, that the sisters won’t hurt them. He doesn’t want that for Dean anymore, not at all. He wants Dean, who has proven to be a patient friend, to be safe, even if he could still one day turn on Castiel and his family. 

_ I’m not afraid of you,  _ Dean had told him. Castiel wonders if he would change his mind if he  _ really _ knew what Castiel and his entire family were. If he knew one of his brothers was responsible for all those murders years ago…

“Stay away from my friends,” Castiel whispers a threat into the dark. The wind picks up, maybe coincidentally, maybe in response, but Cas stands tall and confident nonetheless, lifting his chin proudly.

“Cas!”

Inias voice brings Castiel back to reality, to the party that’s unfolding just a few meters away. Cas turns on his heels, feeling uncomfortable just by hearing the tone with which Inias calls him. So warm, so happy to see him, a little too much. Why Inias thinks they’re still a good idea, or even a  _ possible _ idea, is beyond Cas. Inias is dressed up as something Castiel thinks he should recognise but can’t quite put his finger on.

“What are you supposed to be?” he blatantly asks, cocking his head to the side. It’s a movie reference, he’s 65% sure of that…

“I’m Marty McFly!” Inias responds as he throws his arms out and strikes a pose. He looks appalled when Cas does nothing but stare at him in confusion. “From Back to the Future! You haven’t seen that movie?”

“I.. think I have.”

“If you don’t remember, we could watch it together sometime. It’s one of my favourite movies, I could watch it a hundred times.”

Inias’ hopeful smile simultaneously breaks Castiel’s heart for having to break  _ his  _ heart but also sets alarms off in his mind that tell him to  _ flee _ this awkward situation.

Behind Inias, walking back the way he came from towards the cars, is Dean heading off into the dark path on his own. Something in Cas pushes him into action then, a primitive side of him he didn’t even know he had begging him not to let Dean wander alone into the dark when he can sense  _ something _ is out there. 

Without thinking, he blurts out the first lie he can come up with to get away from Inias. “Actually, Inias, I’m kind of seeing someone right now.”

“Oh…” Inias’ optimism melts right off his face, his shoulders visibly dropping in disappointment just like his smile. “It’s Dean, isn’t it? I thought you guys were like… fighting or something.”

“We made up,” he lies through his teeth as he starts in Dean’s direction. He waves at Inias, eager to end the conversation. “Sorry about that, I’ll talk to you later.”

Dean hears Castiel trotting to catch up with him and turns around, a little surprised by the unexpected company. “You okay, Cas?” he asks when he notices Castiel’s slightly rattled expression.

“I’ll just say it because there’s no way around it; I’ve just told Inias we are together to avoid giving him hopes of something happening between us. I’m sorry about that. Also you shouldn’t wander off alone out here at night.”

Dean blinks, taking in all the information, then snorts. With shameless confidence, he throws an arm around Castiel’s shoulder and drags him towards the cars.

“I’ll be your boyfriend for the night, then,” he grins cockily. Castiel doesn’t think he is imagining the delight in the other boy’s face, easily visible even in the dark night.

Having Dean’s arm around him feels familiar in a bizarre way, like being transported into the past when they were children or into the future, where they could be lovers. As Cas looks up to his face, he’s more aware than ever that this is his  _ soulmate.  _ He has the knowledge and he has the power to make the prophecy a reality. If he kissed Dean, the hunter-to-be would surely kiss him back. The possibility is laid out right there in front of him, right in front of his nose, all he has to do is have the guts to make a choice.

“I’m not scared of the dark, you know?” Dean tells him as Cas distractedly stares at him, which he doesn’t seem to mind. The closer the witch is to Dean, the prettier his soulmate seems to be. “I don’t know what that thing was, whatever we saw in the car with the guys. I could have sworn it was looking at  _ me _ . It felt like a warning.”

There it is again, the fire inside of Cas that lights up with a strong desire to protect Dean. Not just his friends, but  _ Dean _ , as if the only one who had the right to mess with him was Castiel and no one else. The thought of a dark spirit going after his soulmate, whether Castiel wants to go down that path or not, rattles him to his very core.

“And you’re not afraid of it?”

Dean shakes his head. “I’m not. Somehow I feel that thing was scared of  _ me _ , you know? And that’s kind of comforting. I don’t think much of myself, to be honest, but one thing I am not is a chicken.”

“I’d prefer to err on the side of caution.”

Smiling broadly, in a cheeky way, Dean looks straight at him. They’re so close, their noses are almost touching. He puts a hand in his chest and playfully asks, “Cas, are you  _ worried _ about me?”

“Only  _ I _ can shake your ladder,” Castiel responds, the smallest of playfully grins pulling at the corner of his lips as he tries to keep his face stoic.

Dean throws his head back and laughs with his hold body, squeezing Castiel’s shoulder with his hand. When they get to the car they pick the snacks Garth forgot under the seat and head back to the party. Cas can’t help but wonder what would have happened if he’d made a move on Dean, right there and then, alone in the car. He kind of wishes he had, he kind of can’t stop imagining what would have been like to have a steamy make out session with Dean Winchester in the back of his car. It would have been perfect but he did not make up his mind, the moment passed and the two boys headed back into the party.

They don’t make a big show of being together, they don’t kiss or hold hands or anything like that, but both Dean and Cas gravitate around each other all night in the most pleasant way. Dean, with his ever charming personality, makes friends and easy conversation with everybody but he helps Castiel participate, often whispering into his ears explanations of pop culture references the witch misses. At some point Cas is just waiting for the next time Dean will lean in to whisper in his ear, yearning for that closeness again. He’s fully aware of his growing desires but he doesn’t really do anything to stop it. It feels too good, natural even. They’re meant to be together, he doesn’t just know that because he saw it in a vision but he starts to get it now, they’re good together, which makes it so much harder to think about having to betray Dean at some point to get the key from him. He starts wondering  _ when  _ he’s going to do it, fully aware that the sooner the better, but he just can’t bring himself to lie and ask for it, too afraid to ruin the pace they’ve fallen into, their newfound friendship plus the flirting and the longing stares… He doesn’t want to lose that, not quite yet.

Oh, when Dean laughs and his hand lands in Castiel’s knee for no reason, squeezing it. Castiel's heart jolts in a way it has never before, and in that feeling he finds that which he never felt with Inias. The  _ spark _ in his gut, the thrill running through his veins. He never wants Dean to move his hand away. In fact he wishes he had both of those hands on him.

“Who wants to play?” Pamela asks as she holds a ouija board over her head, wiggling her eyebrows as she searches the crowd for willing participants.

Charlie looks like she’d rather die.

“Oh, no, please don’t!” she begs in fear.

Pamela, who is dressed as a very stereotypical witch, waves a hand dismissively at her worries. “Come on, Charlie, it’s Halloween!”

“You don’t have to play if you don’t want to,” Gilda comforts her, running a hand up and down her back. No matter what others say, Charlie is anxious about it. 

She and Dean exchange quick glances with each other. She opens her eyes widely at him, having some internal, wordless conversation with her friend.

“Yeah, maybe it’s not the best idea,” Dean eventually agrees.

“Worried we’ll summon something?” Pamela, all confidence and bravado, teases him, wiggling her eyebrows.

He shrugs like it’s no big deal but adds, “better safe than sorry, right?”

“They say the spirit of Cara Mayers still haunts these woods. What if we get some answers from her?” the bold girl excitedly elaborates, trying to get people to buy in. Some have already gathered closer to either look or participate.

“You may not like what you find though,” Jo points out before taking a sip of her drink.

“Who is Cara Mayers?” Garth asks.

“A girl who was found dead in the woods many years ago. It was all rather mysterious, they never really figured out what happened to her, if she was a victim of the serial killer or not,” Jo explains to him, all playfulness stripped from her tone. Even if it’s a party and it’s Halloween and they’re goofing around, she respects the dead too much to tell her story with excitement.

Inias, in a spooky tone, adds, “her body was torn to shreds.”

Charlie merely shakes her head from side to side over and over again, not wanting to have anything to do with the board or ghosts or murders of the past.

As more gather around to watch while only a few get ready to start playing with the board, Cas rises to his feet. He knows it isn’t safe to play with such things, especially when so many people who believe concentrate their energy on it and even more so on such a delicate day as Halloween where the lines between worlds get a little blurrier and the supernatural gets a little crazier. It’s only worse that he  _ already _ senses there’s something in the dark, something that won't dare come out just yet but still should not be invited into the light. He’s uneasy. What if the ghosts are watching and they’re not happy to see him actually enjoying himself instead of plotting to destroy Dean? They seemed so keen in convincing him he was the enemy, he’s not sure these vengeful spirits would like to hear he’s having second thoughts. What if they make some sort of apparition or play a supernatural trick on someone in the party? If things take a dangerous turn, Cas could not help but jump in to help, which could reveal to the entire crowd what he really is. There are too many variables he’s not happy with, too many things that could go wrong, so he takes a drastic decision to prevent anything from happening.

Muttering some excuse about having to take a leak, he wanders off from the group, crossing the first few layers of trees into the dark. The further away he walks, the stronger is the presence in the trees. He watches over his shoulder to make sure nobody has followed him, then turns back around to face the forest. When he does, just as he had expected, he finds himself face to face with the three spirits he has become so acquainted with lately. Their shape is different this time, with something like antlers coming out of their heads and their faces completely concealed. He sees nothing but their eyes glowing in the dark. They’re not pleased with him, he can tell, but he’s not intimidated at all.

“My friends saw an apparition. Was it you?”

The oldest smiles. There’s nothing beautiful about it, just pure evil.

“We may have paid the hunter a little visit.”

Blood running hot with anger, Castiel closes his hands into fists and starts to focus all his energy, all his will in one single desire, one spell.

“He’s not  _ really _ your friend, Castiel.”

“We are.”

“We make you strong.”

“We make you wise.”

He has no interest in hearing them, their words no longer working to poison his mind. He doesn’t know their motives, it could be more than just working their evil nature as Gabriel has told him, but he doesn't care either. All he knows is he wants them gone, away from Dean and his friends and from people they can hurt, back again into the ground where they belong and can’t hurt anybody no more. 

Feeling his magic run through his veins like fire that can’t burn him, channelling all his power and will, he holds a fist up in rage and the spirits automatically begin choking. The looks of bewilderment coming from them are priceless. Cas feels that rush of excitement again, the one he gets when he takes control, but staring at those dark ghosts spit out puffs of smoke he feels no guilt, no mercy.

_ Where you came from, you must return, _

_ Hell awaits for you to burn. _

_ With my will I crush you and bury you deep, _

_ I banish your spirit, now lay down and sleep. _

“And stay dead this time, for Satan’s sake,” he mutters through gritted teeth as they slowly melt into smoke and disappear after he says the spell a few times, waiting for it to fully kick in.

Panting hard, he tries to control his breathing and let go of the exhilarating feeling running through his veins. It’s not the time to indulge in the power of dark magic, it’s time to be a normal boy and go back to the party and make sure his friends are safe.

At least he notices right away that he can no longer sense anything dark out there in the woods with them anymore. He rejoins his friends, smiling, satisfied with himself. He used his magic against something really evil for a really good reason, one born out of kindness and love. It feels good. He feels like his old self.

When he returns, he sits next to Charlie who watches in horror as some play with the ouija board. Cas puts an arm around her and pulls her close, sandwiching her between Gilda and him.

“Don’t worry, I’m never going to let anything get to you.”

Surprisingly, that actually draws a smile from Charlie. She rests her head against his shoulder and tenderly, she responds, “I know, Cas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First gif: mermaides  
> Just to be clear I don't credit any gifs to me, I just don't know the origins for all of them.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from vacation! :)

Without the voices of the spirits whispering into his ear, festering his distress and bitterness, Cas feels much better. He’s less angry, lives more in the moment and actually starts feeling sort of… happy. Not just content, but happy. When he stops being so negative and focused on the bad, making up plots against him that deep down he knows don’t really exist, things improve a lot. His relationship with his friends goes back to harmonious and easy. Fully aware of what is happening, he also lets Dean grow on him. And boy, is it easy. Dean is eager to get past whatever animosity there was between them and doesn’t ever hold it against him. In a way Cas is glad about that because it makes life easier for him, but another part of him worries that Dean is too soft, that he forgives too easily and too fast. And there he is, Castiel Novak, worrying about Dean Winchester’s feelings, looking out for his best interest. 

Cas can’t help but look at Dean with a newfound interest. Now that he's past the point of antagonizing Dean (even though he’s still set on getting the key back into his family’s side) and they’re quickly becoming good friends, Castiel is more aware than ever that this is his soulmate. The boy with the freckles and the silly jokes that kind of give Cas secondhand embarrassment but he also can’t help but find endearing. He’s just so likeable and so goddamn gorgeous. With time he will do nothing but get even more beautiful, he will grow into a full on sexy man that Cas could have all to himself. All he has to do is go for it. And truth be told, lately, looking at those red lips, Cas may be getting really tempted to just _go for it._ Kudos to God for wrapping up temptation in such a pretty package.

Somehow, Wednesday finds them going back to Dean’s to study after school. It’s not a date, he knows that, but Castiel can’t help but be a little nervous nonetheless. It’s the first time they’ll be together on purpose, because they both chose to, with no underlying ulterior motive other than to help Dean with statistics.

Dean is embarrassed about his utter lack of comprehension in the subject and warns Cas that he’s practically unteachable. He beats himself down more than necessary, to the point where he starts to insult his own intelligence. Cas can tell Dean is just overwhelmed by all he doesn’t know and has entered a stage of denial and rejection towards the subject which only makes things worse, so Cas takes him back all the way to the basics and starts to unravel the root of Dean’s problems. Everything math related, it turns out, stresses the hell out of Dean. Living life on the road, math was one of those classes he could never fully grasp because he didn’t have the consistency needed to follow the subject he struggled with. He was fine with Geography, History and social sciences, he saw most of the country with his own eyes anyway and spent countless hours in the presence of weird old dudes on the camping sites they visited who had something related to history to rant about. He did pretty damn well in English which made sense since books were the only source of entertainment they had on the road for long periods of time. Everything art and music wasn’t his forte but he could fake it until he made it. He sort of coped with biology, depending on the effort he put into it, but did quite poorly in physics and chemistry. Nothing compared to math though. Math was his absolute undoing.

“Math is my nemesis,” Dean jokes for the third time but he sounds stressed.

“Do you want me to explain it again?” Cas asks patiently. 

Dean’s face is tensely frozen. “No, it’s okay, let’s continue.”

“You’ve got to understand the base to continue though. Otherwise it just kind of snowballs.”

The telltale nervous tapping of Dean’s foot on the floor lets Cas know that Dean hasn’t, in fact, understood what they just went over. Dean, too embarrassed to admit he kind of spaced out in the middle of the explanation out of sheer frustration, can’t bring himself to ask Cas to repeat himself.

“Let’s review it one more time, okay?”

Dean lets out a short breath of frustration but nods. Several times in fact, while he’s still tapping his foot. Cas puts a hand on his knee and Dean stops immediately while he blushes and looks at Castiel in bewilderment.

“Try to relax, Dean,” Cas smiles softly, “this isn’t a test, I’m not judging you here.”

Either still by math or the touch of Castiel’s hand, Dean nervously massages the back of his neck and nods. Unconsciously, the tapping of his foot returns almost as soon as Castiel pulls his hand away.

Sensing that Dean’s not going to relax anytime soon, Cas excuses himself for a second and heads down the hallway into the bathroom. Locked inside the little room, he rests his hands on the sink and looks around, feeling the power of the protection spell Dean accidentally-on-purpose casted over the home. It’s a strong one, ancient magic, the witch can feel it. It binds the power of none other than a King of Hell, not even Cas is reckless enough to test that.

“I’m going to cast a spell on Dean,” he says out loud in a cautious and gentle tone, addressing the house as if it were alive. “I’m a friend and I mean no harm. It’s to help him. So… don’t attack me. Please.”

Closing his eyes, Cas takes a deep calming breath and imagines Dean sitting back in his bedroom, looking down at the equations like they’ve personally insulted him. Castiel, who had already heard Dean complaining about math for a while now, had come prepared. He puts his hand inside his pocket and takes out a spike of lavender and fresh grass. The lavender hasn’t dried yet but the flowers are a little crushed from behind inside his pocket all day. He rubs the plants between the palm of his hands and clearly says the necessary words for the relaxation spell while he clearly imagines Dean.

_Things seem hard, things are stressful,_

_Stop worrying now, you’ll be successful._

Castiel stands very still for a moment with his eyes closed, waiting for something to happen—for the curtain shower to attack him, for a random lightning to strike him, for his nose to start bleeding... but nothing happens, the house lets this little spell slide in the direction of its owner as if recognizing Castiel’s good intentions.

Pleased with himself, Cas throws away the flowers and grass into the bin, washes his hands and rejoins Dean in his bedroom. He’s frankly a little uneasy; for better or for worse, he’s just put a spell on Dean, on a _hunter_ , right under his nose, and one that he might actually notice. Normally he knows what he did is not wise at all but he couldn’t help but take pity on Dean and his struggle. After all, Dean’s academic issues are just a consequence of his father’s rocky past and it’s a shame those haunt Dean to date. If Dean wants to graduate on time and go to college next year, he really needs to step up his game, academically speaking. And if a little, totally harmless spell can get him there, is it really that terrible for Castiel to use his powers on him? He’s not cheating, he’s just helping Dean realize he’s only as bad as he tells himself he is. He just needs to relax to be able to focus and to stop being so afraid of what Cas is going to think of him for failing.

“Ready to continue?” 

Cas sits back down next to him and quickly studies Dean for any signs of changes. He still seems a little on edge but at least he’s stopped moving his limbs. Dean nods, drags his chair impossibly closer to the table and focuses his eyes on Castiel’s neatly organized notes and explanations.

“Okay, hit me one more time.”

Once Dean relaxes a little, they can actually make some progress. Dean focuses instead of worrying and with time he starts getting the answers right. The more he gets it, the less of an idiot he feels which makes it easier for Cas to teach him. They’re still a long way to go until Dean is caught up with the class but with a few more intense study sessions he actually begins to feel hopeful that he may pass the test. 

Around dinner time, they call it quits. Dean stretches his legs under the desk and his arms over his head. His ass aches from sitting all day. When he puts his arms down, he leaves one of them stretched on the back of Castiel’s chair. The smell of roasted chicken comes all the way from the kitchen. Dean’s stomach growls and his mouth waters. If his dad is able to cook one thing right is roasted chicken, it’s what he makes when he wants to impress a guest. 

“You’re going to love my dad’s chicken, it’s like the one thing he’s really good at,” Dean tells him enthusiastically while Cas shoves his things back into his backpack.

“Oh, thank you but I should probably head home.”

“Are you sure? You’re missing out on the greatest chicken ever, Cas.”

Dean’s grin is so wide and so happy, Castiel’s resolution almost melts away. He chuckles, shakes his head and turns to return Dean’s smile. They look at each other in silence for a second. It’s comfortable but as they look into one other’s eyes, a new kind of anticipation lingers in the air.

“Maybe next time?” Cas offers.

The momentary silence coming from Dean is charged, he’s thinking about Castiel thinking of doing this often, together, and how much he likes that. He nods and softly, he says, “okay…”

A part of Cas knows this is his cue to say goodbye and leave, but with Dean’s eyes locked on his he feels glued to the chair. There’s a sort of tension in the air, the promise of something more if he’s just patient enough and stays a little bit longer. Or maybe it’s in his head, maybe it’s just him _hoping_ that something more will happen.

“Thank you,” Dean tells him, his voice barely a whisper. “I really appreciate your help.”

Castiel nods and swallows hard. Whenever Dean looks at him like that, with a thousand unsaid things in his eyes, Cas feels something that he can only describe as butterflies in his stomach. “You’re smarter than you think, Dean.”

Dean shrugs a little uncomfortably as he always gets when someone gives him a compliment. He can barely take it when someone says something genuinely nice to him and it kind of breaks Castiel’s heart. 

“Yeah, well, I’ve never thought much of myself.”

“You should. I believe in you.”

As they exchange smiles, time freezes for a second before they both lean forwards at the same time, meeting halfway to kiss. This kiss is soft and tender, a barely there tentative brush of lips as if they hadn’t already shared a heated kiss before. There are no mixed signals this time, no misinterpretation. Both their minds are completely clear too, their love-hate relationship now grown into a comfortable friendship. And more, if the sweetness of the kiss is anything to go by. Very slowly, as if Dean was afraid that any movement would shock Castiel into reality and have him running off into the night like the previous time, Dean’s hand moves from the chair to the back of Castiel’s neck, fingers gently running through the never changing mess that is Cas’ hair. Dean’s touch is loving and thoughtful, his fingertips moving slowly to stroke Castiel’s hair.

Cas is hyper aware of every inch of his body but he can’t even be bothered to feel awkward as he hugs his backpack against his chest while his and Dean’s mouth move in unison to ever so slightly deepen the kiss. It’s such a simple kiss but it feels so glorious, so _right_ , like no one’s ever going to match his rhythm like Dean does. It’s like their lips were made to kiss each other, and knowing what Cas knows, maybe they were.

Then, as John bursts through the door to announce dinner’s ready, the boys jump in surprise and turn away from each other. Castiel blushes furiously as he locks his gaze anywhere _but_ in the direction of John Winchester while Dean is frozen in place, eyes wide like the moon, while he waits for his dad’s reaction.

John, who is as surprised as the boys even though he was the one barging in, merely mutters an apology and something intelligible about dinner before awkwardly closing the door again.

Dean’s heart is hammering in his chest. He has no idea how to handle this situation with his dad, what’s going to happen when Castiel leaves and they have to talk about what John saw. It’s a conversation Dean would have preferred never to have with his dad unless he ever had a serious male partner. But for now, there are more important things to worry about, like Cas.

“I’m so sorry, my dad’s really not one to knock, it’s so annoying,” he mumbles in a rush. He’s so embarrassed his ears heated up.

Castiel can’t help but smile a little and shakes his head. “It’s alright. Just—he startled me.”

“Yeah, you don’t say,” Dean smiles nervously but inside he’s kind of terrified of what John’s going to say.

Once again their eyes meet but the moment’s gone, they’re not going to kiss again. Except Cas really wants to.

“Do you want to go out with me?” he blurts out without thinking. He’s been building up to this ever since he decided to eventually ask Dean to give him the key, but he hadn’t _really_ prepared himself to speak these words out loud. Sitting there with Dean though, he found the courage in those green eyes that look at him like he’s the only person in town Dean would ever go on a date with anyway. “On a date. This weekend?”

“Hell yeah,” Dean replies right away. Even though it seemed impossible, he blushes even more at his own eagerness but Cas just chuckles. “I mean, sure. Saturday?”

Cas nods as he stands. “Saturday.”

“Want me to drive you home?”

“No, it’s okay, I like to—”

“—walk. Yeah, I know. I’ll see you tomorrow, Cas.”

“Good night, Dean.”

Cas walks out of the room with the shiest and smallest of smiles in his face. When he’s out of sight, Dean brings his fingers to his lips. He can almost still feel Castiel’s on his. That had to be one of the sweetest kisses he’s ever received and goddamn if it didn’t make him feel all the butterflies in his stomach. Through his nerves, it still brings out a smile on him.

However, his legs are like jelly as he walks out of his room. When he walks past Sammy’s room he sees his brother’s still engrossed with his homework. _Good_ , he thinks, it’ll give him a moment of privacy with his dad. 

John’s putting food on the plates. Dean observes him, studies him, looking for anything telltale sign that he’s about to get yelled at. But John seems far from being about to flip—and Dean knows the signs very well by now. He looks normal, a little distracted, smiling vaguely to himself. He lifts his gaze and meets his son’s eyes. There’s just a second of silence before Dean takes a deep breath, mustering all his courage to discuss his sexuality with his dad, something that makes him physically uncomfortable and he wishes he didn’t have to do...

But before he has the time to say a word, John raises a hand to stop him and says, “we don’t need to talk about it. Unless you want to talk about it. Dean, I don’t care. I mean, in a negative way.”

Dean can’t help but be surprised that his dad is so cool with it so quickly. John laughs at the look on his face.

“I’m sure you thought I was clueless, son,” he adds, “but I was there when you were three and madly in love with Cas, so... what can I say? I’m not really shocked.”

“So… we’re cool?”

“Of course we are. Am I a little surprised? Yes, but I’m not homophobic so relax. Do _you_ wanna talk about it?”

Dean shakes his head, mortified, just as Sam walks slowly into the room, eyes fixed on a book.

“Talk about what?” he mumbles, eyes glued to the pages.

“Your brother’s out of the closet,” John announces in a teasing tone.

Sam finally looks up, mimicking his father’s playful smirk. “Finally!”

Dean punches him in the arm (not really hard, obviously) and growls without really meaning it, “no reading at the table, nerd.”

John gives them their plates and sits down. There’s a glimmer in his eyes that says he’s not quite done teasing Dean a little bit. “I guess I’ve really gotta start knocking.”

Once more, Dean blushes profusely. “ _Dad!_ ” 

Sam and John laugh, loud and happy. It's music in Dean's ears.

“I guess after years of living in motels and, well, the car, I’ve kind of lost the habit of knocking. But you’ve got your own room now… We don’t have it bad here, huh?”

Judging by the few dates John’s had with Charlie’s mom things seem to be going well there. Sam’s also adapted and it’s like he’s always lived here by now. Dean’s got a date with Castiel.

“Not at all,” he agrees.

In the early afternoon of that Saturday, Dean is trying to get some reading done in the bunker but he’s distracted, excited by the date to come. Now that he knows he’s allowed to, he cannot wait to kiss Cas again. He wants to hold him close and commit to memory the little noises he makes when they kiss and taste him and so many other things… Their date just cannot come soon enough. Charlie notices him daydreaming but doesn’t say anything. They haven’t discussed it but Dean thinks she tacitly approves of them dating, even if there are clear conflicts of interest that could, eventually, come between them.

Sam’s working like a madman. He runs around the bunker looking for things with the catalogue index in his hand, digs through cabinets and storage rooms and has papers and books scattered all over the table. Charlie reads whatever Sam orders her to read and Dean also tries to do the same but he hasn’t been of much help today or the day before.

Finally, after scribbling for a while in the journal their grandfather and then Bobby Singer had used to log notes about the case, Sam puts his pen down, almost slapping in on the table, and announces, “I think I figured out the link! Between the victims, I mean.”

Dean and Charlie look up silently, waiting for him to go on.

“So, Bobby couldn’t figure out how the victims were being targeted, they were all so different in age, looks, lifestyles, social groups… But get this: the first victim, Cara, was a virgin—”

“How would possibly you know that?” Charlie asks, lifting an eyebrow.

“She was the president of the math club and also…” Sam makes a face, reluctant to go on. Instead of saying anything he just throws a piece of old newspaper their way. They lean in together at the same time to look down at a picture of Cara and instantly know what Sam means; Cara was by no means the type of girl you’d expect to get lucky at high school, with her big glasses, braces and really bad skin. Sam, who is a rather kind person, just doesn’t want to say that out loud.

“Yeah, okay, she was a virgin,” Dean agrees right away.

“Teddy was just a kid, everyone says he was sweet and shy. Richie was a decorated firefighter who saved a lot of people, actually. Marina was a nun, she was really popular with kids, everyone said she was really nice. Our grandparents—well, they were probably murdered because they got too close to the truth but they were heroes, they fought monsters and tried to help people, right? Shelby was Chair of Paediatrics and was associated with Doctors Without Borders. _After_ Bobby left and closed the investigation, Aurora’s husband revealed she was pregnant when she disappeared. They hadn’t told anybody yet and he chose not to tell her parents when she went missing to spare them from more pain.”

Charlie nods along as he thinks, tilting her head to the side. “Okay… so… we have mostly nice people as victims?”

“Yes, exactly!” Sam points out. “But more specifically, the victims had great sacrifice value.”

Dean lifts an eyebrow. “ _What_?”

“Two virgins, an innocent one—meaning a child, a pregnant woman, two true heroes—which are people who have saved lives with their own hands for selfless reasons, like a doctor and a firefighter—and two declared enemies of the night, which is essentially what the Men of Letter are.”

Sam pushes a rather old book towards Dean. The title at the top reads _Satanic Black Arts Principles: a guide to human sacrifices._

A little worried about his brother’s choice of reading, Dean comments, “Sammy, I think you’ve been spending too much time down here…”

Sam’s serious bitchface shuts him right up.

“I think whatever was killing people was actually _sacrificing_ them. Probably for a spell that calls for really powerful sacrifices. Bobby might have overlooked that because he didn’t know about Aurora and these types of sacrifices are really also very uncommon these days, they’re used for only extremely powerful and dark magic. It’s also really rare for there to be so many sacrifices. _Also_ , every incident happened with at least a week between each other, _except_ for our grandparents. But I think that was just convenience, better kill them both at once than wait for them to catch you, right? So, with this information, we can narrow down the search!” he concludes with an excited smile, proud of his breakthrough. “We’re looking for a spell that needs at least 7 powerful sacrifices, which has to be done with a pause of a week between each other.”

“And how many are there that fit that description?” Charlie asks.

“I’m not sure, about 200, I think, from the index,” Sam responds, waving one of the many pages of the index in his hand. “They’re classified by sacrifices and complexity mostly though, not the time frame between rituals.”

“ _200!?_ ” Dean repeats, staring at his brother with wide eyes. He knows where this is going.

“If we get started, we can probably cover them all by midnight. You can take a 60 each, I’ll do the rest.”

“Nope,” Dean declares, putting his foot down. He snatches the paper from his brother’s hand and sets it down on the table. “No, this is getting ridiculous, Sammy. It’s Saturday! I have a date and Charlie’s mom’s going to drive her to see Gilda.”

“Okay, so I’ll start—”

“Dude, no!” Dean repeats, walking around the table and dragging his little brother towards the door with him. “You’re gonna go home and do homework or call Barry or Eileen and watch a movie with them. You’re not gonna stay all alone in here reading about sacrifices.”

Sam tries to wiggle out of his brother’s grip but fails. “But this is important!” he protests.

“It can wait, Sam. There hasn’t been a murder in years, whatever that thing was is gone now.”

“Or it’s waiting!” Sam points out, slapping Dean’s hand until he pulls away. Without fear of confrontation, Sam stands up to Dean and says, “what if it’s the Novaks? _They_ are satanists.”

“Castiel would never—” Charlie starts, offended on her friend’s behalf.

“You’re being ridiculous!” Dean declares at the same time as Charlie speaks.

“Then why is he _suddenly_ nice to you?” Sam asks through narrow eyes. “Don’t be naive, Dean! He wants to take the key from you!”

“Castiel was _four_ when the murders happened, Sam, he couldn’t have had anything to do with it,” Charlie reminds him.

“Maybe not, but perhaps Gabriel did and now he’s using Cas to get to you.”

Sam’s bold accusation pierces through Dean’s heart, getting under his skin. He doesn’t want to believe it but right away he knows Sam’s planted the seed of doubt in him right before the date Dean had been looking for.

“It’s not like that,” he assures his brother but, truth be told, he can’t help but be suspicious about Castiel’s sudden change of heart too. At the beginning it seemed forced, Dean figured maybe Castiel just realized he’d have to get used to him being part of the group, but their relationship has improved dramatically since then as well. Could it all really be just because Castiel wants to get his hands around the key? At least Dean finds comfort in the knowledge that Castiel can’t, in fact, take the key without Dean giving his consent.

“I think he really likes Dean,” Charlie agrees, giving her friend an encouraging smile. Dean tries to take comfort from her opinion as she knows Cas better than them, but he can’t help but be anxious now for a whole other reason than being eager to kiss Cas. This is something else, something negative that poisons his mind.

Dean takes a deep breath and plants his hands on his brother’s shoulders, looking down at him, all seriousness but gentle too “Look, Sammy. I don’t want you to obsess about this and I don’t want you to spend your every free minute down here. Go do something fun and I promise we’ll continue tomorrow.” Sam opens his mouth to protest, but Dean cuts in quickly, “mom didn’t think it was the Novaks, neither did Bobby or Samuel. And they knew them better than we do. Gabriel knows we found the bunker, don’t you think he would have tried something if he wanted to stop us from discovering what he is or what happened back then? I don’t think it’s him and I don’t think it’s Cas, _and_ I’m going to go out on that date, whether you like it or not.”

Defeated Sam sighs heavily and rolls his eyes. “Just be careful, Dean.”

After dropping off Charlie and Sam at home and changing into something slightly more date-appropriate, Dean drives up to Castiel’s to pick him up. Going through the now sort of familiar dirt road, he starts getting nervous. His brother’s suspicions haunt him, he dearly hopes Sam’s wrong. His heart picks up in his chest, his hands sweat a little. What if he’s opening up to the wrong person? That’d be devastating to him.

But the moment he sees Castiel leaning against the fence, waiting for him, the tension in his shoulder melts away and instead he feels butterflies in his lower stomach. The witch looks gorgeous, dressed in a simple white shirt and dark jeans. Cas smiles at him, pushes off the fence and walks up to the passenger’s seat.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean tries not to squirm as Castiel’s blue eyes look at him up and down.

“Shall we?” Dean asks, feeling a little dumb. Should he have said something? Should he compliment Castiel?

Cas nods and turns on his seat to look ahead. He looks slightly nervous but an excited smile pulls at the corner of his lips at all times so Dean tries to calm down and enjoy this. So far at least, he’s not getting any _evil secret plan on the march_ vibes from the witch, which is a good thing.

The first few minutes in the car are silent and more than a little awkward. Dean’s not thinking about Cas plotting against him now but just worrying that he's going to spoil his one chance to make a good impression. In his experience, if the first date goes poorly, the chances of getting a second one are slim to none. He can’t quite believe how hard he’s finding it to find his words since he’s always been rather good at this, maybe it’s because for the very first time in this life he really cares about the other person and things between them can actually go beyond a few dates until John decides it’s time to move on again. Dean could actually have a _boyfriend_ this time. Instead of easing his nerves, the butterflies in his stomach take it up a notch.

“Look at us, going from enemies to lovers,” he blurts out just to have something to listen to besides this own thoughts.

Castiel turns to look at him, blushing by the _lovers_ part.

“We’re not—we _could_ be—maybe later—” he stammers awkwardly, interrupted time and time again by his own train of thought.

Dean raises a hand to spare him. “I was kidding, Cas. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to... God, I swear I’m usually better at these things.”

Over the corner of his eye Dean can see Cas frowning to himself, lips pulled into a thin line. 

“Do you go out on a lot of dates?” Castiel asks in a tone that tries but completely fails to be casual. There’s the tiniest hint of jealousy somewhere in there and Dean kind of digs it.

“I have. Moving towns as quickly as we did, it sort of gave me the confidence to try anything. If I fucked up and made a fool of myself, I’d be gone in a few days so I wouldn’t have to endure the embarrassment. Sure gave me a lot of practice.”

Cas nods and turns his head to stare out the window, away from Dean. 

“What about you?” Dean asks with curiosity, now thinking of Inias and how weird Cas was about him on Halloween. “What’s the deal with, hmm, you and that guy, Inias?”

Castiel makes himself small at the mention of Inias, embarrassed just to hear his name.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed but there aren’t exactly a lot of gay men around here to go out with… and Inias is nice and we get along great, so we hung out a few times…”

When Cas trails off, Dean asks, “but…? Was there a problem or…?”

Inside of Dean there’s an uncontrollable need to hear Cas confirm he’s not into Inias, that there’s nothing between them anymore. He doesn’t know where it comes from but it’s a kind of jealousy he’s never felt before. He’s never cared this way before about anyone.

“I don’t really know,” Castiel admits, shrugging, “there was just something missing.”

“Obviously not for _him_ , judging by the way he looks at you. He’s all smitten.”

Dean chuckles nervously but waits for Cas to confirm that he doesn’t feel the same way about Inias.

“I suppose,” Cas thinks out loud, “I thought it was clear it wasn’t working but maybe not for him…”

“So, you, hmm, don’t feel the same way?”

Castiel lifts an eyebrow and turns on his seat to meet Dean’s eyes. “Obviously not. I’m on a date with _you_ , aren’t I?”

Dean shrugs. “That doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

The moment he sees Cas flinch and draw back he knows he said the wrong thing.

“It does to me,” he mutters, his feelings wounded. “I don’t go out with people I don’t like.”

Dean feels something drop in his stomach at Castiel’s misinterpretation of his words. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just—take Bela for example. She didn’t really like me, not all of me at least. People sometimes go out with other people for their looks. Or because they want something from you.”

“I wouldn’t…”

Cas trails off, eyes lost on the road. Without thinking, Dean takes one hand off the steering wheel to grab Castiel’s. Cas sort of freezes for a moment, taken aback by the sudden touch, but then turns his hand around and interlocks their fingers. He looks down at their joined hands like he’s studying them and what it means, then looks away to hide his smile but Dean still sees it.

“Tell me a secret,” Dean asks to change the subject and to clear up the air.

Far from relaxing, Cas tenses up and snaps his head to glance over at Dean with tremendous caution.

“What? Like what?”

“For example… I ran away once. I spent two weeks in a summer camp. I was 7, Sammy was three. He doesn’t remember and my dad and I… we just never talked about it again.”

The memory of the anger in John’s eyes still sends shivers down Dean’s spine.

Castiel’s grip tightens around Dean’s hand, his thumb draws circles over Dean’s skin.

“What happened?”

Dean shrugs, uncomfortable discussing painful memories, not sure why he brought it up in the first place. “I wanted a break from being me for a while. I had to take care of Sammy all the time… I just wanted a break. The first week was fun, nobody seemed to realize I wasn’t supposed to be there. Terrible admin from the camp runners, if you ask me… By the second week I was afraid my dad wasn’t gonna come looking for me, you know? That he’d skipped town without me. That scared me shitless, I couldn’t just leave Sammy alone.”

“So?”

“So I told the truth to the camp coordinator.” Dean chuckles as he remembers the mess he caused, the way the coordinators weren’t sure whether to call the police and admit they’d kept a child away from his parents for almost two whole weeks which looked terribly bad for business, or if they should handle it discreetly and on the down low. “They found my dad and he picked me up. I still remember Sammy sleeping on the backside of the car and the relief I felt that he was okay. But oh boy was my dad mad…”

Eyes glue to Dean, Cas sits in silence for a second, taking the information in. He opens his mouth to ask something, thinks twice of it and closes it. Dean takes a quick look at him, then back at the road. Cas looks conflicted.

“What?”

“Did he… hit you?”

Biting the inside of his cheeks as he thinks, Dean figures he’d rather just be honest with Cas, as he usually is. What’s the point of denying it? People probably assume it and, truth be told, they wouldn’t be wrong.

“Yeah, a few times. Not often, I can count them with one hand.”

Somehow, telling Cas is kind of therapeutic, the burden of the secret, of it all, weighing on his shoulders a little less the more he talks about it, so he continues.

“I learned to read him very well so when he got really mean, I’d just grab Sam and get out of his way for a while. I remember this one night when we were kids, we spent like 5 hours sitting in the stairs of the motel waiting for him to just pass out already. I kept watch, doing homework to keep me awake. Sam fell asleep leaning against me, he was just a kid.”

“You were just a kid too,” Cas points out softly.

Dean lets go of his hand to change the gear of the car to park right across the street from the movie theatre, then grabs it once more like it’s the most natural thing to do.

“I don’t mean to… cross any boundaries, I guess but… how can you forgive him? How do you just… go on from that?”

Dean takes a deep breath and holds it in. That’s a question he asked himself a million times. “What else am I supposed to do?” he replies. “Helping him is in my family’s best interest.”

“Helping isn’t forgiving.”

“I don’t wanna hate him. I mean, he’s my dad. A shitty one but he and Sammy are all I’ve got. Am I angry? Yeah, sure. I think a part of me will always be a little resentful but I spent a lot of time being _just_ angry and it’s pretty damn tiring and not helpful at all. I'm not saying everyone in my position should do the same but he’s trying so I’m trying too.”

Castiel nods, either satisfied with Dean’s answer or because he simply just doesn’t want to push the subject.

“Shall we?” Dean asks, nodding towards the theatre. He starts letting go of Castiel’s hand but the other grabs it quickly to stop him.

“Wait! I didn’t tell you my secret.”

Dean settles on his seat again, waiting patiently but eagerly too.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard and I’m not going to go into the details of how I did it but…” Cas hesitates for a moment, gauging how safe it is to confess something magic related to Dean, but eventually he can’t help but want to share this with someone, to laugh about it with Dean. Smiling proudly of himself with a glimmer of mischievousness in his eyes, he tells Dean, “I set rats loose on Dick once.”

Dean bursts out laughing, imagining that glorious moment he’d heard about before, relishing in the confirmation that this had indeed happened. He truly wishes he’d been there to see it. Knowing it was probably a spell Cas worked to mess with Dick, Dean doesn’t ask for details. Castiel smiles broadly as Dean laughs and pats him in the back.

“You’re a genius,” Dean chuckles. “I just wish I’d been there to see it.”

“If he messes with you, I might grant your wish.”

“Thank you, Cas.”

Without thinking Dean leans forwards and kisses Castiel. It’s a quick peck in the lips, no big deal, but nonetheless it leaves them both a little stunt. That small taste of Cas’ lips leaves Dean craving for more.

After clearing his throat, Dean takes the lead and suggests they go in already or they’ll be late. Together they head into the movie theatre, this time keeping their hands to themselves. It’s not like either is embarrassed of what they are, of going out on a date in public, but it’s just _too_ public to lay it out in the open yet, this thing that’s barely started between them that doesn’t even have a name at this point. It’s beyond strange to be in this position, Cas thinks, going out on his first date with the guy that could be his future husband. They’re still awkward and unsure of their every move towards each other, and yet Castiel knows that there’s probably nothing he could do that would drive Dean away. In the end, they’re destined for each other, if Cas decides to go that way. It’s comforting and at the same time terrifying to know his future with Dean like this.

The movie’s really interesting but watching it with Dean keeps the young witch on the tip of his toes. They sit on the back where no one can bother them. A couple in the very corner of the room is having a hot make-out session. Cas can’t help but throw a few glances in their way, wondering if Dean wants that too. All his date does is grab his hand though, he doesn’t ask for more, and Castiel isn’t sure whether he’s relieved or disappointed. He’s wanted Dean since before he could admit it and now that he does, he craves for his touch that much more. He knows it would take them a while to get used to each other and experiment with one another before getting to the level of comfort and pleasure that he saw in that one sneak peek into their future, but he knows they can get there and, well, he’s _eager_ to do those things with Dean. If he’s going to give into the lustful, kinky side of being a witch, Dean’s a great person to experiment with.

After the movies, Cas suggests a little diner right outside of town, actually not too far from their home. Dean, who’s only running on the money he earned working for Gabriel, is glad to continue the date somewhere cheap. He finds it rather kind from Castiel to keep those sorts of things in mind since he's much more wealthy than Dean. The place is small and rather quiet, but cozy. Sitting in a corner, the boys have some sort of privacy. Not that they need it, but Dean appreciates having some space to talk without having to whisper, he doesn’t want the entire town up his private business.

“I didn’t take you for the diner kind of guy,” Dean comments while they wait for their orders.

Cas shifts awkwardly in his seat and looks around second guessing his choice. “Would you prefer a fancier place?”

Dean snorts. “No, not at all. I mean, _look_ at me, Cas, do I strike you as fancy?”

Castiel shrugs, fiddling somewhat nervously with his napkin. “I think you’d look good on a suit.”

“Right back at you,” Dean grins. “But yeah, this place is great. I totally am a diner kind of guy. No matter where my dad took us, there were always two things close by; a TV and hamburgers. Why did you choose this place anyway?”

“My parents met here.”

“Really?”

Dean sits up in interest, slightly leaning over the table, waiting for more information. He never met them but he spent years thinking of Clarice and Charles, imagining what it’d be like to come back to town and have them take him under their wing. His chance at a second family. He didn’t get that, but maybe he can still get Cas.

Cas nods, sadness hiding in his eyes.

“My mom worked here as a waitress. My dad decided to return to our family property after a long time, to check that things were in order... He stopped to grab something to eat here first and, well, she was working here. He told me he felt bewitched the moment she looked at him. After that, he continued to extend his stay over and over again, until he decided to stay, permanently... for her...”

Watching out the window as the last lights of the day disappear, Cas trails off and thinks of that moment. He’s seen the memory in the magic mirror, the moment their parents met. It was love at first sight, if such a thing exists. It’s strange to think it’s a key moment in time that sealed so many people’s faith, a chance encounter that affected so many people’s lives in the end; it led to the deaths of Clarice, her mother and Mary, to the entrapment of Castiel’s family in different worlds, to the downfall of John Winchester, it made Cas an orphan and his grandfather a window, and ruined Sam and Dean’s lives. The day they met they doomed more than just each other but neither seems to regret the short romance they shared.

Dean reaches out to grab his hand over the table, bringing Cas back to reality.

“Sounds like it was destined to happen,” he jokes as he squeezes Castiel’s hand to comfort him. 

“Do you believe in that sort of stuff?”

Dean shrugs, biting his lip as he considers the question. “I don’t know. Sometimes coincidences just seem too crazy to be _just_ coincidences. Do you?”

Cas nods and stares out the window. Thinking about his destiny makes him anxious, what with all the mixed messages he’s been getting about what exactly he’s supposed to do with his life.

“And?” Dean presses. “What do you think is _your_ destiny?”

“I don’t know yet,” Cas responds sincerely. He looks down at their joined hands. This could be one path, if he chose Dean, this boy that’s so sweet and welcoming but is still partly a stranger to Cas in so many ways. But there are other, darker paths he could follow, a future of greatness and power and unimaginable achievements… “I don’t really like to think about it.”

“Too much pressure?”

“Yes.”

Dean chuckles and leans back on his seat as the waitress brings them their food.

“Let’s take it one day at the time, then,” Dean tells Cas. He doesn’t tell him that for the longest time he felt the Novaks, somehow, were his destiny; to go back to them, find them and reforge the bonds that had been lost when their mothers died. Ever since he was a child, even if he could no longer remember Cas, something in him always wanted to return to him. He doesn’t share this information with Cas though because he doesn’t want to freak him out. Also, knowing what he knows now, Dean wonders if it wasn’t maybe his hunter blood deep inside of him calling him to fulfil his role in the Men of Letters. The supernatural had a way of finding its way back into hunters’ lives, he’d read once in a book in the bunker.

The boys lose track of time at the diner. They order desert, talk for what seem hours, then Dean orders more fries because why the hell not? Dean keeps the conversations carefully away from topics that may force Cas to lie. They share stories from childhood, some a little sad, others funny, and more of their hopes and dreams for the future. Cas tells what it’s like to be the kid that lives in the haunted land feared by the townsfolk, Dean shares what it’s like to not be known at all, ever, by anybody in town. They bond over their strange lives and get comfortable with each other. Dean tells Cas he’s old fashioned, he just wants a family and a home and to set down roots somewhere; Castiel says he’s not so sure anymore of what he wants for the future. Dean shrugs and tells the other not to worry, they’re still young, he’ll figure it out. 

Despite Castiel's very well known weak social skills, the date goes smoothly. It's like they've known each other forever, like nothing bad ever happened between them. They're at complete ease with each other, Dean driving the conversation to help Cas where he is more quiet and awkward.

"If you could pass a law for something ridiculous, what would it be?"

"Anything at all?" Dean nods in response. Cas only needs to think for a few seconds before the first idea crosses his mind. "I'd make it illegal to put pineapple in pizza."

Dean barks a laugh. "I agree. I'd make it illegal to make noise before 9 am on a weekend. If you could stop something from happening in history, something unrelated to your life I mean, what would you do?"

A few ideas cross the witch's mind but eventually he responds, "I'd stop the Malleus maleficarum from being published. It's a book which was used for witch hunting. It was very influential in it's time, it caused a lot of trouble. A lot of death."

The Hammer of Witches. Dean knows the book, he's got a copy in the bunker, but he plays dumb and doesn't comment on it.

"Good choice," he says instead. "I'd stop the Kennedy assassination."

As the hours pass by and Dean asks him a hundred questions, always paying attention to Castiel’s answers, to him in general, always friendly and open and welcoming, with a reassuring but also kind of playful grin that assures him there are no wrong answers, that he could say anything and Dean would still find the answer interesting, the witch can’t quite remember the things he used to think to convince himself that he disliked Dean by the time they’re leaving—mainly because the diner’s closing, not because they want to. Cas has to admit he loves the way Dean makes him feel, like he’s actually interesting and what he has to say has value. Dean makes him feel welcomed and comfortable and just… peaceful. He could talk to Dean for hours without having to watch what he says or how he says it or how it’s going to be perceived, there’s no need to overthink things, he can just be himself.

Back in the car, both of them know it’s probably time to call it a night yet neither wants to. Dean doesn’t have a curfew, never really has, but it’s getting late and everything’s closing in that small ass town, so, having nowhere else to go, he rather reluctantly drives Cas home. They’re both pretty quiet in the ride back, then tension between them starts to rise. Both of them want to make a move but neither is sure how it’ll be received by the other.

When he arrives at the Novaks’, Dean drives Cas all the way up to the house. The house is completely dark, no lights on inside. Dean’s heart can’t help but quicken at the sight; they’re alone. Cas rather nervously realizes Gabriel had not been joking earlier that day when he said he’d leave the house all to Castiel so he could finally make a move on Dean and take back the key for themselves. Now that the time has really come and the opportunity is right there in front of him, he’s somewhat panicking. It does not help at all that he actually _does_ want to make a move on Dean, for reasons other than taking the key, although it makes things easier to head that way too. So _if_ he kisses Dean, will it be because he’s itching to do it or because he wants to get to that key hanging around the other’s neck?

In no hurry to leave, Dean turns the ignition off and sits in silence for a second in the car, engulfed in darkness, before he says, “I had a lot of fun today. I’m really glad we did this.”

Cas nods, tongue-tied. Dean is _right there_ , completely willing, practically asking for it, just waiting for Castiel to give him a sign but Cas is not good at this. Dean meets his eyes, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet those thin but perfect lips of his. Castiel can’t help but follow the movement with his eyes. 

Sensing something in Castiel’s hesitation, Dean asks in a barely whisper, “Cas… you okay? I know we kissed before but… no pressure, man.” 

It’s the concern in his voice, the way he constantly looks out for Castiel’s feelings, that helps Cas break out of his shell and lean forwards, breaking the space between them. He practically sighs against Dean’s lips when their mouths join. Dean moves naturally, in perfect synchrony, to put his hands on the back of his head and bring him closer, shifting in his seat to close all space between them. Castiel’s hand grabs the front of Dean’s shirt and kisses him hungrily. Dean’s a little surprised but catches on right away, loving the little noises Cas makes while they make out. Every move they make feels like perfection, like they are made for this, for each other. Cas has never enjoyed a kiss this much before and as he finds himself practically climbing into Dean’s lap, he wants more and more, key or no key. He wonders if they’re so good together because they’re destined for each _or_ if they’re destined for each other _because_ they’re so good together, so undeniably, mind-blowingly good. There’s not a single thing Dean does that doesn’t leave Cas wanting for more and vice versa.

Sparks ignite low in his stomach when Dean cups his ass with one hand, the other venturing below Castiel’s shirt, fingertips trailing up his spine softly only to then have Dean’s fingernails digging into his skin with just enough force to make it pleasurable, not painful. Cas wants to touch him as well, his hands wander down Dean’s shirt too, exploring the muscles in the shoulders then going back to gently pull at Dean’s hair when he feels the chain around Dean’s shoulder—he doesn’t need another reminder of the key he’s supposed to steal, he’s enjoying this too much. Dean lets out this little half gasp and half moan that excites Cas more than he dares admit.

When they emerge from the kiss, they’re both gasping for air. They keep close, their foreheads brought together while they breathe each other’s air.

“Cas, hmm,” Dean starts, taking a second to clear his throat when he finds his voice hoarse with desire. He sounds so beautiful out of breath, the witch has to do his best to pay attention instead of diving back in for another kiss. “You might wanna get out of my lap or things may get a little, err… awkward.”

“I can do awkward,” Cas responds dumbly, feeling stupid for the graceless words that just came out of his mouth the moment they do but having Dean so close is making his head foggy. “We can go in… if you want.”

His heart beats so fast in his chest, he feels as if Dean might just hear it. With his hands planted on Dean’s chest though, he can feel the other’s racing just as furiously.

Dean licks his lips and nods. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“We don’t _have to_ , though,” Cas says all of a sudden, remembering all those times people took advantage of Dean and how he now thinks this is the way to get people to like him. Even if at the start Castiel really did have a secret agenda, he would hate to think Dean’s going forwards with whatever they’re doing because he thinks he _has to_. “We can wait, if you want. I can wait. For you.”

Definitely endeared by Castiel’s worry, Dean puts his arms around him and kisses him chastely on the lips.

“I’ve been waiting for you for too long, Cas.”

The sweet words cause Castiel’s brain to short-circuit and something in his chest, that part of him that’s still partly thinking of the key on the back of his mind, aches with guilt. But he pushes through that and awkwardly climbs off Dean’s lap.

“Come on, then,” he mutters as he gets out of the car.

The moment his body stops touching Dean’s it’s like the spell breaks. Castiel is suddenly super aware of what they’re about to do and he can’t help but blush. His hands sweat. He prays to Satan that his grandmother’s ghost will have the sense to stay away. 

Inside the house, Cas is hyper aware that there’s a hunter in his home. Dean may not have the knowledge or the training but it’s in his blood, he’s more perceptive than normal humans. It makes Castiel uneasy but then Dean grabs his hands as they go up the stairs and gives him an encouraging smile. It helps soothe the nerves in his stomach; Dean’s not there to hunt witches, he’s there to be with one.

Before they go into Castiel’s bedroom, the witch suddenly stops abruptly in front of the door and blocks Dean from going on.

“Hmm, can you give me a minute?” he asks in a voice that tries to sound casual but probably doesn’t.

Dean chuckles and takes a few steps back to lean against the wall. “Messy room?”

Cas nods. “Yes. It’ll be just a minute.”

Trying to open the door as little as possible, fitting in tightly through the small gap, he squeezes in and shuts the door behind him quickly so Dean can’t see inside. There are books of magic _everywhere_ , books he knows he’s supposed to always bring back to their secret library _precisely_ in case they get a visitor. The thing is, they never have visitors and he hadn’t expected things with Dean to go so well.

He scrambles to gather the books; the one in the desk, the bed and the floor, and throws them all deep under the bed. He grabs the little statue of Baphomet he has on the window sill and other satanic or witchcraft related items in the room, including ingredients he did not use for spells he was investigating, and more carefully puts those under the bed along with the books.

Turning to the mirror, he whispers, “mirror, mirror on the wall, don’t interrupt us at all. Reject any calls from beyond and do _not_ respond to anything Dean may say.”

With any evidence of witchcraft now hidden, he takes a deep breath to calm himself down and opens the door to find Dean patiently waiting.

“All good?”

Cas smiles and nods. “All good.”

“Great.”

Dean steps into the room and right into Castiel’s personal space, capturing his lips in a new kiss that is just as passionate as the one they shared in the car, as if they had never stopped at all. Dean grabs the front of Castiel’s jacket and pulls it down his shoulders and arms. Cas lets it fall to the floor, then does the same with Dean’s. As Dean’s tongue playfully explores Castiel’s, he guides the other backwards, towards the bed, until the back of Castiel’s knees hit the bed and he sits down. Together they climb up the bed until Dean’s on top of him, pressing his body down to trap Cas between the bed. Limbs tangled and hands trying to get each other’s shirts open, their kisses turn more urgent and steamy. Cas rolls them around and climbs onto his lap again, fingers quickly undoing the bottoms of their jeans while Dean pushes Castiel’s shirt off. Then he sits up to kiss him again, too impatient to be without a kiss for more than a second. The witch rolls his hips, feeling delicious friction where their growing erections meet. When Dean groans it’s like music for his ears. 

When Dean breaks the kiss for just another second to take off his T-shirt, Cas momentarily has a full view of the key hanging from Dean’s neck before Dean cups his face and kisses him, both of them laying down again. Dean’s fingernails gently scratch down Cas’ back, eliciting a moan from him. He likes the careful roughness of Dean’s actions. 

As Cas explores Dean’s body, his hand inevitably touches the key. Once again, the metal burns his skin and he pulls away at once, winging in pain.

“What?” Dean asks, chest heaving. 

“I, mmm—” Cas swallows, mind too foggy to come up with a good lie at the moment. “Nothing, your key—I’m... allergic to... that type of metal.”

He wants to slap himself for that terrible, just _idiotic_ lie. Satan would be thoroughly disappointed in him for being just a poor deceiver. Dean pauses and stares at him blankly, Cas cannot read the look on his face. He’s afraid for a moment that this weird lie will put Dean off, especially considering they’ve argued about this particular key before.

Dean hesitates. He knows Cas wants the key, he also knows it burns the witch to touch it. He’s at a crossroads, he’s got an important choice to make; will he trust Castiel, trust his intentions, or won’t he?

Hoping to God or whoever’s out there listening that Castiel won’t go dark side on him, putting all his faith in the witch, Dean takes the chain around his neck without saying a word and lays it in the nightstand next to the bed. He looks at it for a moment, partly fearing that it’ll disappear out of the blue, that something in the house will betray him and take away this one item that his mother left him to protect. It gives him separation anxiety not to feel the chain around his neck, but he forces himself to tear his eyes away from it and focus them back on Cas.

Castiel is holding his breath, he’s speechless and tense. They both are. Slowly, testing the waters, Dean puts his arms back around Cas and nudges the other’s nose with his own. When blue eyes look down at green ones, they find a question there. Castiel knows Dean knows he wants the key, and there it is, his chance to take it. Dean is trusting him _not to_ take the thing away from him. Dean kisses him slowly, like they hadn’t just been making out passionately five seconds ago. Once more, Cas melts against his lips and with one hand cups the side of Dean’s face. They close their eyes and resume kissing, slowly, tasting each other, their tongues moving against one another without hurry.

Feeling the call of the key, Cas can’t help but open one eye and look at it. There it is, all he needs to do is reach out; Dean willingly took the chain off in his presence, trusting Castiel with it, so it’s fair game now. His hand itches to grab it, it actually moves a little to the side…

And then he sees it, the church and his friends and his brother and Dean holding his hands at the altar. Dean’s radiant face, like all his dreams are coming true. He sees them moving into their first house, boxes everywhere, stopping to make out on the couch, the only surface free of stuff. He sees Dean getting down on his knees and pulling his husband’s pants down, going down on him like his life depends on it. He sees the devotion, the love, the hunger Dean has for him. He sees both of them getting drunk with each other’s love, their feelings for one another stronger and more intense than any magic Castiel’s ever felt. He sees life with Dean, the life he could have if he stops reaching for the key.

A life without his family. Without saving his mother. Without magic. 

Overwhelmed, Castiel abruptly backs away and accidentally rolls off the bed to the side. He falls on the ground gracelessly, feeling extremely vulnerable laying there half naked with Dean staring at him all confused.

He fucked it up.

Or he didn’t, he made a choice. He chose Dean. This addictive boy who is practically a stranger, he chose him over his own family, his magic. Castiel just couldn’t do it, couldn't let him down and risk ruining what they were building, he couldn’t find it in him to betray the trust of that man who, in the future, becomes his husband, his best friend, confidant, lover, you name it.

As Castiel begins to shake with the realization of what he’s done, Dean scrambles to his feet and kneels down next to him. He reaches out to touch Cas but stops when the other boy flinches.

“Cas, I’m sorry, did I—”

“Get out,” Castiel blurts out in a panicked voice.

Dean doesn’t respond, just stares back, completely taken aback. He’s not sure he even heard those words right, it can’t be—

“Get out! Please get out of my house!” Castiel repeats frantically, shuffling away from Dean.

Bewitched, he feels bewitched by Dean just like his father felt all those years ago by his mother and now he’s making the same choice, a choice that led to everyone’s doom. And with this choice, Castiel is dooming his family. History repeats itself.

The hurt in Dean’s eyes breaks Castiel’s heart but he’s too overwhelmed to do something about. Dean seems reluctant to leave, slowly getting to his feet and reaching for his key first and foremost. He looks down at Castiel as he puts the chain back around his neck, giving the witch one last time to change his mind and ask Dean to stay.

“What did I—”

“You are the end of everything else,” Castiel interrupts him, words spilling out against his own will harsher than he meant them to be.

Dean just stares back, mouth hanging open in a silent question. He has no idea what Cas is talking about but he knows it’s something bad.

“Cas, what can I do?”

“Give me the key.”

Automatically, Dean’s hand covers the little piece of metal hanging from his neck, as if Cas would not be able to take it if he can’t see it.

“No.”

“Dean, _please_ ,” Cas begs, down on his knees and all.

“No,” Dean repeats. His other hand curls into a fist. His eyes are wild with anger, confusion and hurt. He turns towards the bed, grabbing his shirt before he storms out of the room. He stops by the door and glances back at him. Looking at Cas over his shoulder and trying to keep his voice in check, he says, “I can’t believe you went this far for this frigging—I thought we—”

He takes a short, sharp breath in and shakes his head; he can’t believe he was so stupid.

“I’m done with you.”

From his room, Castiel can hear Dean running down the stairs, banging the door on his way out and even the sound of the Impala’s engine. With shaky legs, he walks over to the window and watches Dean leave. As the ground beneath him starts to shake, Castiel starts to cry. Once he starts, he can’t stop, it all comes pouring out. He cries for his mother, for his father, he cries for ruining Gabe’s life; he cries out of fear and guilt, for the apocalypse that may come and the pressure on his shoulders. He cries because he’s a selfish bastard and he cries because he’s quite sure Dean won’t want to speak to him again after this. 

The frames in the walls, the books in the shelves, everything shakes. Castiel is too lost in his own mind to worry about the earthquake he’s causing. He can _feel_ it but he just doesn’t care. If anything, he finds a little comfort in its power, the proof that even though he chose Dean—and automatically lost him, like an idiot—his magic is still there, intact and formidable. He’s not sure how he will lose it but he knows he will one day, he’s seen it, but today he’s powerful and strong enough to make the ground beneath him rattle and shake the entire house.

“Cas, what the hell!”

Gabriel bursts through the door and stumbles towards the bed. He grabs Castiel by the shoulders and forces him to sit up. Face and eyes red from crying, Cas just throws his arms around his brother’s middle, like he used to when he was just a child, and continues to cry.

“What happened?” Gabriel asks him. There’s fear in his voice. “Did he hurt you or something?”

Cas shakes his head frantically.

“I couldn’t do it!” he sobs. “I couldn’t take the key from him. I’m a traitor. I’m so sorry, Gabriel, I’m so sorry!”

Puzzled but even more worried, Gabriel puts his arms around Cas and pats his back. He’s speechless for a second, doing his best to counter Castiel’s earthquake which he knows is causing people to freak out big time in town.

“Cas, it’s okay. I will take care of it, I promise. I’m sorry I pressured you into this. Don’t you worry about a thing, brother, it’s all going to be alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gifs made by me, some from stock footage.


	19. Chapter 19

Castiel tries calling Dean the next day but Sam picks up and tells him not to call again and to stay away from his brother. He wonders if he should just go over and ask for forgiveness, to explain that it hadn’t all been about the key at all, but he fears he’ll just end up causing a scene and he wants to spare Dean of that embarrassment (and maybe himself too).

The day is long, longer than any other day he spent angry and frustrated trying out spells and dark magic. He feels more lost than ever and his heart aches almost physically. There’s a very unpleasant and heavy warmth pressing down his chest. Anxiety, Gabe tells him. He suggests he takes something to calm down but Castiel turns down any potions his brother tries to give him. Instead, he spends most of the day in their little temple, not praying to Satan but simply… praying. To anyone who will listen and to no one at all. He just hopes that things will turn out alright even if he doesn’t even know what he wants. He’s torn, more than ever, even after making his choice. The day is dark, matching his mood as usual, and a lazy but constant rain reflects the internal turmoil inside of him, the sadness and the melancholy.

Just because he made a decision it doesn’t mean he’s at peace or sure of himself; what if it’s the wrong choice or what if he regrets it? What if he only saw the good but the bad will pain him with just as much intensity, forever? And how will he lose his magic? Will it be painful, will Satan himself come to strip him off his powers in a spiteful outburst? The thought sends a shiver running down his spine. He knows Satan to be a very giving and encouraging deity, mostly because he wants his children to have the power to be mischievous and independent, but he can also be unforgiving, cruel and selfish. And oh, does he like to punish and torture souls. He will not take kindly to Castiel’s treason, the way he just abandoned all his gifts, his destiny in Hell, the grandiose plans Satan had for him, for one human boy that’s supposed to be an enemy in the first place. 

And what if he chooses Dean and things don’t go right? Maybe they get divorced down the line or, worse, maybe Dean dies like Castiel’s mother did, which left his father to carry that pain with him for all of eternity. Cas doesn’t want to go through the same, through the eternal agony of missing his soulmate.

Castiel is terribly ashamed of himself as well. He’s supposed to speak to his father but he doesn’t know how to face him. He can barely be in the same room as Gabriel, even if his brother doesn’t seem bothered at all by his failure to retrieve the key. He dwells in all the possible outcomes of their conversation, he imagines his father getting angry, yelling at him, blaming him for abandoning his mother for a mortal boy. 

It’s really late by the time Seir comes to get him with the intention of comforting, landing on a nearby grave. It doesn’t help though, all it does is exacerbate his anxiety as he wonders if Seir will stop being his familiar if he gives up his magic, if their bond will break. The spirit has been his companion for so long, since before Cas can even remember. He can’t come to terms with the idea of their connection suddenly disappearing. Despairing, he pulls the bird into his arms with extreme care and smooths the feathers tenderly.

“Don’t ever leave me, my friend,” he whispers as he walks past the cemetery towards the house in the dark. “Not you.”

A cold plate of dinner waits for him in the kitchen. The dishes are washing themselves. Cas calls out for Gabe shyly but his brother doesn’t respond. The lights are on in the direction of the library. Cas doesn’t go looking for Gabriel though, he simply has dinner as his grandmother urges him to have some dessert to feel better and then he drags his feet upstairs. 

As soon as he comes into his room, the mirror reveals the image of his father waiting on the other side. Ashamed of himself the young witch turns his back on his father and puts the bird down on the desk, giving it one last stroke with the back of his finger before turning to face the music.

But his father, who must have surely already spoken to Gabriel about what happened, doesn’t seem upset with him at all. Instead, when he speaks his tone is understanding and calm. “There you are, son. I’ve been waiting for you all day.”

“You’re not mad?”

Charles gives him that dad-like supportive look that lets Castiel know his father is truly not angry.

“Why would I be mad?”

“I lost my chance to get the key back. I ruined everything.”

“You didn’t ruin anything, son. I completely understand, you didn’t want to do something that could jeopardize your relationship with your soulmate.”

Cas sighs and sits on his chair, leaning his elbows on his knees. He’s physically and mentally tired but his dad’s the only one that can understand his situation.

“Yet I managed to do that too,” he laments. “He thought I was trying to trick him to get the key. He won’t pick up my calls.”

“Then you try talking to him tomorrow at school.”

“What if he doesn’t want to talk to me?”

“Then you’ll try the next day, for as long as it’s necessary. He will forgive you, Castiel.”

“How can you be so sure?”

His father shrugs, smiling. “I know a thing or two about soulmates.”

Castiel rolls his eyes as he sits back on the chair, folding his arms over his chest. “You and mom never argued though. All we do is fight.”

That has his father bursting out laughing. “Who told you that?”

Cas shrugs. “I never saw you fighting in any of the memories the mirror showed me. And you never told me about that.”

“The mirror didn’t show you that because I don’t want you to see that. I don’t want you to remember us like that. But of course we argued, all couples argue.”

“Did you ever have a big fight?”

“Only two.”

“What were they about?” Castiel asks curiously, momentarily forgetting about everything else. He loves to hear stories about his parents.

“A big one was when she named you without asking me first.”

“What, you don’t like my name?”

Charles chuckles and shakes his head. “I love your name, Cas, but as you know you’re named after an angel _. _ ”

“So?”

“So your mom found a spell,” Charles explains, tone turning a little more serious, “to protect you from Satan. I knew you’d be a witch and a powerful one too, I could sense it. You were our baby but also a child of Satan, as all of us are. That scared your mother, even though I tried to explain that Satan’s not what mortals make him out to be... for the most part. So she did this spell, behind my back… One of the requirements for the spell was to name you after an angel which must honour its calling and protect your soul. So when you die, both God and Satan will have a claim on your soul. I found it very offensive and we had a really big fight about it.”

Cas frowns and sits up; how did he not know about this before? “What’s that supposed to mean though, that both God and Satan have a claim on my soul?”

“I don’t know,” his father responds sincerely. “I had never heard of it happening before, nor since then. So far it hasn’t affected you at all. I suppose we’ll find out when you die.”

“That’s not comforting,” Cas exclaims, throwing his arms out.

“Being a witch doesn’t come without the drama and the mysteries, Castiel,” Charles grins, then chuckles at his son’s frustrated expression. “It’s part of what makes our lives exciting.”

“My life has been  _ too _ exciting lately,” he sighs. He kind of misses those boring summer days where he just laid on the grass to watch the clouds.

“Dean will come around, son, I promise.”

Castiel, not so sure of that, shrugs and averts his eyes. Then a thought occurs to him and he lifts his head to address his father again.

“When was the second time you had a big fight with mom?”

A smile sneaks into his father’s face as he remembers that day. “Oh, it was the silliest thing. She was jealous of an old friend of mine, another witch, Rowena. We had a thing ages ago. Your mother was convinced she was after me again, I told her she was being ridiculous. Turns out she was right.”

“How did you know?”

“It was pretty clear when she sent a ghost to haunt your mom—nothing dangerous, just to scare her away. Your mom wasn’t that easy to scare though but boy, was she mad at me for not believing her from the beginning.”

“Do you ever regret it, dad?” Cas asks out of the blue, without even thinking of what he’s saying. “You took this big risk and it didn’t work, we… we lost her. Do you ever think it would have been better not to meet her at all? It would have spared us so much pain…”

“Cas, not at all,” Charles responds right away, frowning at his son for even suggesting that. “A few years with her were worth a lifetime of missing her. I would do it all over again, son. Besides, I wouldn’t have you, would I?”

Cas smiles for a second but it doesn’t last long. In moments like this, he wishes he could reach out and get a hug from his father.

Charles must be thinking the same because he then says, “I’m sorry I can’t be there for you, son.”

“It’s not your fault. If anything, it’s my fault.”

If he had just taken the key—

But Dean—

But  _ his family!— _

The young witch runs a hand through his messy hair. His poor, sensitive heart can’t decide between the mortal and the immortal world, his duties and his destinies with both.

“Maybe it’s time…” Charles takes a deep breath and sits down. He pauses for a second, Cas waits patiently from him to continue. “Maybe it’s time we just accept things as they are, son. Live your life, stop thinking of me, of your mom, of Hell. There’s more out there for you than trying to open one door.”

“But mom—”

“She made her choice. I made mine too, I always knew loving a mortal was dangerous. Soon, it’ll be time for you to make your own choice, your own path. And whatever you choose, I will support you.”

The next day Cas would very much prefer to skip his classes and disappear from the world but he goes to school anyway with the intention of getting his soulmate to forgive him. He’s not sure what he wants from Dean, he hasn’t chosen what he wants for the rest of his life, all he knows is that every hour that goes by with Dean hating him feels like a year at a madhouse. It’s tearing him up, he can’t focus on anything else. Dean has to forgive him or he’ll lose his mind. And it’s not because he desires Dean, because he wants more of those kisses that leave him breathless and he absolutely dreams of having Dean back in his bed; no, it’s simply because he  _ cares _ about him and he doesn’t want to be the reason why he’s hurting. 

He arrives early to school hoping to have a moment to speak with Dean but the other arrives just barely in time for class; three seconds later and he would have been late, as the professor reminds him. Dean doesn’t so much as look in his direction. The moment the class is done, Dean’s dashing out of the door, obviously avoiding Castiel on purpose. Cas would follow him but he doesn’t want to cause a scene chasing him down the corridors. He discreetly tries to find him in between classes but Dean escapes from him every single time.

At lunch, Dean’s nowhere to be found. Cas walks up to his friends’ table and asks if they’ve seen Dean but they all agree he’s been rather quiet and distant that morning when they saw him.

“Didn’t you guys have a date this weekend…?” Charlie asks, trying and utterly failing to not be noisy. Cas sighs and nods. “And…?”

She trails off and casually plays with her food, dying to know more.

“It went great—”

“That’s awesome!” she beams. Her genuine excitement endears Cas which makes it that much harder to continue going.

“—until I screwed it up.”

Benny narrows his eyes at him in a way that shows he’s trying to not be judgemental but at the same time can’t help but worry about Dean. “Whatcha do, Cas?” he asks as he folds his arms over his chest. He keeps his tone neutral, giving Cas the chance to explain himself and present his case.

“It’s… hard to explain. I want to apologize but he’s been avoiding me all morning.”

“Were you, hmm, together when that earthquake happened?” Charlie asks while she studies her nails with unnecessary concentration. Her demeanour is strange and Castiel would have found it suspicious if he hadn’t been so distracted thinking of Dean.

“That was crazy, wasn’t it?” Benny interjects at the same time Cas responds, “no, he’d left.”

Garth nods enthusiastically; he’d been dying to talk about the earthquake that surprised the town during the weekend. “It gave my parents a real scare.”

“My mom says there’s  _ never _ been an earthquake before around here, she was terrified.”

“Where were you, Cas? Did you feel it ” Charlie asks.

“Home,” is all Cas responds shortly and is glad the conversation moves on quickly.

“My mom says it’s all the fracking,” Garth suggests.

Cas nods in agreement, glad to see someone’s thought of some sort of believable excuse by now. “Must be, what else could it be?”

Charlie, knowing full well there’s a powerful source of magic standing next to them, bites the inside of her cheeks to stop herself from blurting out she knows what really happened that weekend and outing Cas as a witch in front of her friends. She promised Dean she wouldn’t tell Castiel but it’s getting harder and harder not to ask her best friend the hundreds of questions she has for him. 

“Anyway, do you know where Dean is?”

“He’s probably in the library,” Garth suggests and then he continues to discuss the theories around the earthquake but Castiel doesn’t stay to debate, he’s already hurrying away to get to the library before their lunch break is over.

Dean can easily be found in the library, scrolling through the pages of a book he isn’t really paying attention to. His spirits are down, his appetite lost. He barely took a few bites of the sandwich he prepared himself that morning. Humiliated by the events of that weekend, he doesn’t dare show his face in the cafeteria and he’s not in the mood to hang out with his friends anyway, let alone sit with Castiel and pretend everything’s alright. 

Cheap, he feels like a cheap, naive  _ whore _ . What must Castiel think of him after he was so easily seduced into bed on their  _ first _ date? He wants to punch himself in the face for trusting a witch that had given him all the red flags from the beginning. Was he maybe bewitched? Or was he really just that fucking stupid?

He shames himself for having been so  _ weak _ and easily manipulated, for thinking Cas ever felt the same. That they had some sort of special connection. He feels ridiculous just thinking about it, his life wasn’t a romcom, what the hell had he been playing at? If anything it was a  _ drama. _

Drowning in self-hatred and humiliation, there’s nothing Sammy can say to make him feel better and all he prays is that Castiel will at least have the decency to not tell anyone else how easy it is to get Dean into bed. The last thing he needs is to have that reputation. He’d thought this one time things were different but he’d been proven wrong. Yet  _ again _ .

Dean clenches his jaw tight, resisting the urge to just call it quits and go home, but he owes it to John to stay and try his hardest. It’s getting too damn hard though, he  _ has _ been trying hard for a while now but every time he takes a step forward and it seems like things are finally taking a turn for the better, Dean feels eventually he ends up taking two back and he’s growing tired. 

Whatever happens between them, at least he has three good friends and that’s something he’s not going to let Castiel take away from him. Maybe he’s going to have to go back to having lonely lunches but he can live with that, he’s done it most of his life anyway.

Absentmindedly, he moves on to the next page of the book, not really aware of what he’s reading at all. If he’s honest with himself he grabbed the book just to have something to do with his hands and have an alibi instead of looking like a pathetic lone loser who has to hide from the boy that broke his heart. 

“Dean?”

The sound of Castiel’s voice has a very unpleasant effect on him. Something in Dean’s stomach drops and simultaneously he feels sick in his stomach. He can almost feel the blood draining from his face. When he looks up, he sees the witch walking towards him. Dean grabs his backpack and bolts, leaving Cas standing in the library feeling like absolute shit and impossibly awkward. Two girls stand not too far, watching him with curious eyes. They’ve obviously seen what just happened. Embarrassed, Castiel moves on too. He tries to find Dean again but he doesn’t get a chance to speak to him before the ring bells announcing he needs to get to class. He didn’t get to eat lunch but he’s not very hungry anyway.

Dean avoids him all week. There’s an obvious awkwardness in the group now because originally they’re Castiel’s friends but they like Dean and don’t want to lose his friendship. Charlie, Garth and Benny are all caught in the middle of their awkwardness and neither of the boys wants to explain what went down between them. Charlie gets a little mad at first but as soon as she realizes Cas is truly sorry, she tries to give him advice on how to win Dean back and she gives a good word for him when she hangs out with the Winchesters at the bunker. Dean doesn’t want to talk about the date though and Sam gives her a look that’s quite intimidating for a 13 year old. He definitely has the hunter blood in him. She drops the subject, following Benny’s advice to not get in the middle of whatever’s happening. 

At the end of the week, just when Dean thought things couldn't possibly get any worse, when he thought he was starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel after spending a nice afternoon hanging out at Benny’s and sharing a pleasant dinner with his family, he gets sprayed on by a skunk just before entering his home. He yells—in surprise and disbelief and anger that he’s just so damn unlucky—and automatically backs away from the little creature that runs away into the night once it has done its bad deed. A part of him wants to find it and take revenge on it, even though he knows deep down he’d never hurt the animal, but a more prominent part of him is nauseous and dizzy with the terrible smell that is now impregnated on him. 

Hearing his son yelling outside, John rushes to the door and flings it open, only to step back once the disgusting odor reaches his nostrils. 

“Oh, God, Dean, what the hell—”

“Skunk! Skunk!” Dean exclaims rather hysterically, bottled up frustration bursting out of him. He wants to throw up from the stench. “I swear it was  _ waiting  _ for me dad, what the fuck!”

“Take your clothes off, I’ll get a bag,” his dad orders, then rushes back in to grab a garbage bag. 

Dean, overwhelmed by the smell, barely has the sense to not go full nude in public. He hurries off his clothes, stepping inside as his dad brings the black bag.

“Take everything off, son.”

“Don’t throw the clothes away though!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. Come on, it stinks.”

Sammy comes into the living-room to see what all the fuss is about. The moment he notices the smell, he backs away though, gagging. It’s so disgusting he doesn't even waste time to laugh at Dean’s misfortune. 

Rather carelessly Dean peels every piece of clothing off of him very quickly and almost violently, disgusted as he takes off his shirt and it slides close to his nose. He’s having a hard time keeping the contents of his stomach down. Incidentally, the chain around his neck gets caught on the shirt and also ends up in the bag. Once he’s standing in nothing but his underwear he runs to the bathroom where he has the longest shower of his life. Mentally and physically exhausted after that long week, he goes straight to bed hoping that time will show him mercy and things will improve. He’s done with that week and he desperately hopes the next one will go easier on him.

The next day, Castiel wakes up to an annoying, repetitive tap sound coming from Charlie’s window. Charlie sleeps through it; she could sleep through the apocalypse if she had to, the heavy sleeper she is _.  _ Garth sort of shuffles in his sleep but doesn’t fully wake up. Cas, who is sharing the air mattress with him, unwillingly opens his eyes to peer at the window and see who or what he’s about to curse the fuck away. When he sees Seir looking down at him, he instantly knows something’s wrong; his familiar would never do something so boldly intelligent in front of his friends, something that could suggest the bird is not  _ just _ a bird. As he abruptly sits up, the mattress shifts violently underneath him, almost fully rousing Garth from his sleep. His friend nods and hugs the pillow tighter though, like he’s fighting himself to go back to sleep. Castiel's heart hammers in his chest, he resists the urge to run to the window and ask his familiar what is wrong but it would be very difficult to explain why he’s talking to a bird if his friends wake up and they already think him weird enough, no need to up the scale.

Trying to be as stealthy as possible, he tiptoes around the room to gather his things and hurries to the hallway. With a soft movement of his hand, the door closes behind him, barely making a noise. He hurries to put his shoes on and runs down the stairs. 

“Cas!” Charlie’s mother greets him from the kitchen, waving at him to join in. “Morning, honey. What some breakfast? You know Charlie, you could starve before she wakes up.”

“No, thank you. I—I really have to go.”

“Everything okay?” she asks, using that maternal and worried tone that’s the closest Cas has to a mom in his life. 

“Yeah, I just—I forgot I had plans with my brother, I really need to get home.”

“Want me to drive you?”

Cas hesitates; a lift would be great but that means he can’t speak to Seir and ask what’s wrong. Maybe he’s just exaggerating, or maybe  _ Seir  _ is exaggerating, but something in him tells him he needs to get home and quickly. 

“Yes, thank you,” he finally decides.

As he doesn’t usually accept a lift, Charlie’s mom grows concerned but being the polite person she is, she refrains from asking questions when Cas doesn’t offer any further explanation. Castiel is glad that he can convey a sense of urgency without having to make up lies and he’s tremendously grateful as she does her best to hurry without driving recklessly. She gets a little fidgety when they get near their property, as most mortals do, but she goes on nonetheless until she drops him off at the gates.

“Thanks,” he forces a smile, trying not to look too freaked out, “please tell Charlie I’m sorry I left so early. I just forgot I had a… thing.”

“Sure thing, love. Have a good day.”

She smiles and waves goodbye before turning back the way she came up. Cas watches her leave for just a second, a wave of affection towards her running through him. Then he hurries towards the house, Seir flying over his head half way through and perching himself in the railing of the porch, calling his master with an undoubtedly sense of urgency.

“Wh—what is it?” he asks as he pants, lungs burning. A voice in the back of his mind tells him he should work out more often but that’s a thought for another day.

As the bird looks into his eyes, he knows; it’s Gabriel, he did something stupid.

He bursts through the door and is about to shout his brother’s name but his grandmother is there, agitated, crying with tears she cannot shred in her state.

“Quickly!” she tells him, pointing towards the upper floor with her hand. “In his bedroom!”

The young witch, terrified out of his mind, jumps the steps of the stairs two out of time. He makes a wrong step and falls down, his knees aching when he hits the edge of the steps. He lands on his hands to avoid hitting his face and painfully twists his wrist but he gets up immediately like nothing happened and runs to his brother’s room. There he finds Gabriel, unconscious in the bed, so white that Cas freezes momentarily and feels the blood leaving his face as he wonders for a second if he’s dead. His familiar rests by his side on the bed. Loki, his life so tightly connected to that of his master’s, also looks somewhat grey and worn out, weakened severely. However, the faintest of moans escapes Gabriel’s lips, a sound so small it would have been lost if Castiel hadn’t been holding his breath, but it’s there, bringing him hope and making him jump into action.

Castiel kneels down next to his bed and grabs his brother’s face on his hands. He’s cold and deadly pale. He has a pulse but barely. Cas can feel it, the powerful curse that is killing him, draining the life out of him in what must be an excruciatingly painful process.

“Gabe! Gabe, wake up! Please wake up!”

As he panics, Cas struggles to think of what he could do. He starts murmuring counter courses but it’s fruitless unless he knows exactly what spell has cursed him. His hands tremble out of control while he tries to shake his older brother, his closest friend, his role model, back into life like a mere mortal. Tears cloud his vision. Gabe tries to say something but Castiel doesn’t understand what he’s saying, either because the ringing in his ears is too loud or because his brother’s voice is just too low, too devoid of strength.

“Who did this to you?” Castiel asks as he starts to sob. If he kills the witch, he ends the curse. He just hopes the witch isn’t too far gone now for he can’t sense another one in the vicinity; all witches, all descendants of Lilith, can sense each other, only an extremely powerful witch could hide from another one.

His brother is dying before his eyes and he’s being absolutely useless.

“I will kill them. I will kill them, that’ll break the spell,” he vows without hesitation. He will bring down the end of the world on whoever did this to Gabriel.

“He did it,” his grandmother says.

Castiel jumps a little, having totally forgotten about anything other than Gabriel.

“What do you mean?”

As a response she points towards the bedside table right next to Castiel. When the witch turns and sees the key of hell casually laying there, his hands fly to his head and he pulls from his hair in disbelief.

“He did it, he took the key from Dean,” his grandmother explains, doing her best to keep her voice steady so that Castiel will understand the important words Gabriel asked her to repeat for him. “He told me to tell you he found a spell that will keep him alive long enough for you to open the door after he took the key from Dean. When you do, take him to Hell. Your father will be able to save him.”

“Open the—I can’t open the door!” Cas exclaims hysterically at her, tears running down his face. “I need Dean’s blood for that!”

The windows begin to rattle, the wind picks up violently. Nearby, thunders begin to roll. The day turns into night and raindrops splatter against the window. He’s on the edge of a massive breakdown but he tries his hardest to keep it together, for Gabriel’s sake if not for the safety of the humans in town.

“What the hell were you thinking!”

Just as he’s about to lose it, Seir lands in front of him, looking directly into his eyes. Like the lighthouse in the most treacherous sea, he shows Cas the path to safety.

_ Calm down. _

_ You can save him. _

_ Calm down. _

It seems impossible, he wants to scream at the stupid bird but as he looks down at Gabriel, he realizes he either channels his powers to save his brother or he watches him fade into nothingness. Castiel closes his eyes, sniffles a few times and then takes a long deep breath in. He holds it, his chest aching, then he slowly lets it all out through his mouth. He does it once, twice, three times. He plants his hands on his brother’s chest and he keeps breathing. He relaxes and focuses all his power, all his might, all that special magic inside of him that is great enough to bring the apocalypse on, back on him, his hands specifically. He tames his magic, he stops the storm that is about to break out outside and he puts his heart and soul into one thing only; Gabriel. 

It works, only a little, but enough to bring his brother back from the brink of death. Castiel isn’t powerful enough to tame death but he can certainly delay it enough to fix things.

Gabriel shifts in his bed, eyes barely opening for a second before he closes them again.

“Open… the door… Cas, open...”

“No,” Castiel firmly states, cupping his dying brother’s cheek with resolution. “You’re not strong enough to make it to Hell in time, you fool, and I am  _ not _ going to sacrifice you to get there. I am going to get Dean, I am going to get him to pardon you and I am going to save you. Just—just wait for me, please, Gabe. I’ll be right back.”


	20. Chapter 20

Dean wakes up to a loud banging noise. It goes on and on and on. Judging by the time, if his father hasn’t checked who’s the idiot knocking on the door like the world is ending, he must be working in the garden. Groggily and stupid with sleep, Dean rises from his bed and drags himself to the front door. Eyes narrowed with sleep, he looks around and sees his father through the window, indeed working outside in the backyard. The music from the radio keeps him from hearing the call. With an annoyed grunt, still half naked but not really able to care in his state, Dean heads to the door himself and opens it, ready to yell at whoever is rudely banging on their door so early. When he’s met face to face with Castiel, it’s like a bucket of cold ice was dropped on his head and woke him up right up. He’s about to slam the door close on his face but the witch puts a hand on it with a supernatural strength and keeps him from closing it.

“I’m not in the mood, Castiel,” he growls.

Should Castiel argue, Dean would love to get in a fist fight with the guy; in a way, he feels like it’s been a long time coming, but instead of trying to make excuses or defend himself or anything else that Dean would have imagined he’d try to pull, Castiel gets down on his knees and looks up at Dean with an urgency that scares him into silence.

“I need—”

Castiel takes a deep, strained breath in as he closes his eyes, putting a hand on his chest as he tries to gather air to fill his lungs. He’s gasping violently. Only then Dean notices he’s absolutely soaked in his own sweat.

“Did you…  _ run _ here?” 

“Need... your… help...” Castiel manages to get out through gasps, chest heaving. “I beg you. Please, I  _ beg  _ you, Dean. I will do  _ anything _ .”

The tears that start to gather in Castiel’s eyes rid Dean of any doubt that he’s bluffing, that he’s pulling just another trick on him; Cas ain’t  _ that  _ good an actor.

“Dude, what happened? You’re freaking me out.”

Hesitating, Castiel gets to his feet. He looks around nervously. When he sees an old couple walking their dog, he rudely pushes past Dean and closes the door behind him. 

“Cas, what the hell—”

“I’m a witch,” Cas blurts out quickly, “I don’t have time to explain but I’m not lying. I’m a witch. Look.”

He holds out his hand which quickly becomes engulfed with flames. Cas moves his fingers around, playing with the fire to show Dean he’s in control of it. Just as fast as they appeared, they disappear when he closes his hand into a fist. He expects a big reaction, denial from Dean’s side, maybe even a fist to his face for some reason, but Dean also surprises him in return.

“I know!” Dean exclaims as he grabs Castiel by the side of his shirt and drags him into his room. “But my dad doesn’t know so keep it down!”

“You know?” 

Castiel is baffled, mouth hanging open as a dozen different questions run through his mind. But then he remembers there’s no time for chatter, this is a life and death situation and he needs Dean to get with the program immediately.

Dean opens his mouth to respond but Cas holds his hands out to silence him.

“We’ll talk about that later!” he interrupts anxiously. “Look, my brother is an idiot and he stole your key somehow and it’s cursed and he’s dying and I need your help!”

As if he couldn’t believe Castiel’s words, Dean’s hand flies to his neck. When he doesn’t feel the key hanging there as it should be, he panics and runs to the kitchen, then out the garden. He digs through the clothes his dad washed last night in an attempt to salvage them for the skunk’s incident and he turns violently angry when he realizes the key’s not there, where it should be if he was stupid enough to take it off last night. He goes back to his bedroom, where Cas is waiting, and shoves him against the wall holding him there by the front of his shirt.

“The skunk—that was you? Where is it?” Dean growls furiously, not giving two craps if Castiel is this all mighty being that can smite him in the spot. That key is his legacy, his responsibility, and he will do anything to protect it.

Castiel doesn’t even try to push him away though. “I literally just told you! My brother stole it, it’s in my home. I want to give it back to you but you have to promise—you have to promise to save my brother!”

Dean clenches his jaw tightly, so much it hurts, and shakes with the need to punch Castiel. His fists shake around the fabric of Cas’ shirt and he wants it, he wants to hurt him so bad, so that Castiel feels a third of what he feels inside. But then Castiel’s hands are slowly coming up to grab his wrists, not to stop him, not afraid of a beating, but just to ground Dean, to beg. There are tears again in those blue eyes and Dean wishes he didn’t care but he does.

“If you don’t grant him a pardon, the curse will kill him,” he tells Dean in this little quiet voice that is barely steady. “I’m begging you, Dean… I’ll do  _ whatever _ you want… Please… He’s all I’ve got.”

“Dean…?”

When he turns around Dean finds Sammy looking at them from the door, rubbing his eyes with the back of his knuckles. It’s all he needs to find some sense in the turmoil inside of him; what wouldn’t he do for Sam? Castiel has just probably run all the way from his home to reveal his darkest secret in order to save his brother’s life. Beyond his anger and his need for retribution and answers, Dean can finally focus on the bigger picture; someone’s dying. And yes, maybe they brought it upon themselves, but here Cas is, a boy with just one remaining family member by his side, begging for mercy.

Looking back and forwards between them, Sam asks, “what's going on...?”

“Dean,” Cas starts carefully, like a scared prey trying to dissuade its hunter, “I swear to Satan I will give you the key back as soon as you save him and I will never,  _ ever _ , try to take it from you again. Please.”

The Satan part has Dean lifting an eyebrow incredulously, it doesn’t really help Castiel’s case.

“And I will—I will let you beat me up if you want, I promise. I will let you keep all my friends and I’ll stay away and it’ll be all good for you without me. I’ll do whatever you want, I—”

“I want the truth,” Dean demands in a steady voice. He doesn’t even need to look that deep down to know that is all he wants, he doesn’t really want to hurt Cas even if his first instinct is always to go for a fight. That’s just his temper acting out, it’s not what he truly wants or needs. “I save Gabriel and you tell me everything I want to know. No more lies, no more half truths. I ask a question and you answer with everything you know. Deal?”

Sighing with relief, Castiel nods frantically.

“Promise me.”

“I swear to Satan,” Cas repeats to which Dean frowns again in disapproval.

“Dude, that’s  _ weird _ .”

“I’m a  _ witch _ ,” Castiel points, shaking his head from side to side. “I’m not going to swear to  _ God _ .”

Dean opens his hands and lets go of Castiel. They stare at each other for a second before Dean turns away and starts searching for his pants, suddenly very much aware that he’s only got his underwear on. He grabs a pair of jeans, all but jumps into them and throws the first shirt he gets his hands on on his way out. He doesn’t waste time with shoes.

“Can I come?” Sam asks as he trails after them.

“No, stay here and tell dad I had to run an errand for a friend.”

“But—”

“Sam, this is urgent!” Dean scolds him as he grabs the keys to the Impala and heads out with Castiel.

Sam sighs but obeys, standing by the door as he watches the other two run to the car. 

The ride is deadly silent and tense. Castiel is biting his nails, murmuring things with his eyes closed. He focuses all his energy on Gabriel, so much that he’s quickly starting to feel drained and dizzy. He’s never exercised his magic like this before, countering the powerful curse is taking a toll on him; death is a worthy opponent, even for him. He knows he cannot win this battle, he just needs Dean to get there fast enough to lift the curse. 

Dean steals quick glances in his direction, worried despite his animosity towards the witch. He cannot imagine being in his place, it makes his stomach twist and turn just to think of Sammy being close to dying. He wants to ask questions right away but he shows Castiel a little mercy and he lets him focus on whatever he is doing; witchcraft, most likely. Dean very much doubts he’s praying. At least not to God…

“Dude, are you okay?” Dean asks as he notices Castiel going very pale very quickly.

The other boy simply gives him one short nod in response, not daring to interrupt the flow of energy going towards Gabriel which is the last line of defence between him and death. Every thought is about his brother, every cell in him is fighting boldly to keep him alive, putting himself between the curse and Gabriel’s life.

When they get to the gates Castiel doesn’t bother getting out of the car to open them. All pretence of normalcy gone, he sends the gates flying open with one quick movement of his hands to let the car through. Dean parks right by the stairs leading up to the house and together they run out of the car. With another simple gesture, Cas has the front door opening on command but before he gets to it, he suddenly collapses on the steps of the porch. For a moment Dean thinks he tripped but when he crouches down to help him up, he notices blood coming out of Castiel’s nose and cold sweat running down his face.

“Cas!”

Every bit of resentment he has towards Castiel disappears in that moment and all Dean can think about is how terrible the other looks and how much it worries him. Dean cups his cheeks in his hands but Cas pulls his hands away. 

“Gabriel… You have to hurry…”

“What do I do?”

“Castiel!” 

Dean turns around as he recognises the voice and standing by the door he sees her, the ghost of Castiel's grandmother, chest heaving in panic even though she needs no air at all.

“He’s almost dead!” she cries in despair as Seir comes flying out the door to perch himself on the railing.

Urgently, Cas fists the front of Dean’s t-shirt to regain his attention and through gritted teeth, with whatever strength is left in him, he gives Dean instructions. “Take the key back, touch him anywhere, it doesn’t matter, and say ‘ _ your transgression I forgive, the curse now I lift’. _ ”

Dean nods twice. “Where is he though?”

“Follow Sier.”

Seir caws and Dean gets it right away; the bird, which he seriously doubts is  _ just _ a bird, will show him the way. Dean jumps to his feet and follows the crow as it bolts inside, Cas’ grandma gesturing at him to hurry with her hands. In a few seconds the three of them barge into Gabriel’s room where Dean finds him laying completely still in the bed, all the colour drained from his face. He looks already dead and the sight makes Dean stop and his stomach turn. There’s a snake curled up next to him which hisses threateningly at the sight of an intruder. Wasting no time, Seir caws to get him moving. Dean looks down at the bird and sees his key laying on the bedside table. He grabs it, hand shaking a little, while the other slowly moves towards Gabriel’s hand. 

“Don’t bite me, please, don’t bite me,” Dean pleas anxiously with the snake as it continues to hiss at him.

Gabriel feels so cold to the touch...

Voice as steady as he can get it to be, he clearly says, “your transgression I forgive, the curse now I lift… I forgive you, Gabriel, don’t die on me, dude.”

Dean waits. What for, he’s not sure but he holds his breath and waits.

Nothing happens, there’s no light, no dramatic gasp for air coming from Gabriel, no sign that what he did worked at all. 

As the silence grows, so does his panic.

“Did it—did it work?” he asks, looking down at the bird, then feeling ridiculous for expecting a response from  _ a bird _ , so he then meets eyes with the ghost.  _ The ghost.  _ If he wasn’t freaking out he’d be laughing at how ridiculous the entire situation is.

“It worked,” a very deep voice to his left says.

Dean jumps off his skin and turns around. Gone is the bird and instead, almost as if it was hiding from the light coming in from the outside, there’s a dark ghostly mist with no defined shape at all and terrifyingly bright red eyes looking down at him from the corner of the room where the walls meet the roof.

“Jesus!” Dean exclaims, stumbling back a few feet at the sight of the apparition.

“Don’t be afraid,” the voice says, although it’s far from comforting. It’s too deep and faded, just like the one Dean would expect to hear in a horror movie coming from a demon or an evil ghost. “It’s me, Seir. I’m here to help you. You cannot hear me in my other form.”

“I like you more as a bird,” Dean says nervously with one hand on his chest. It’s too damn early in the morning for this wild ride of emotions. 

As he gets past his initial fright, Dean looks back down at Gabriel and takes a few steps in his direction. He lets out a sigh of relief when he notices the witch’s chest slowly but surely moving; he’s alive.

“Your counter-spell worked,” Seir tells him. “But they’re very weak.”

Dean’s head shoots up. “They?”

“Castiel used his powers to keep him alive. He’s very strong, but death is stronger. He almost gave too much.”

“Is he okay?” he asks, hurrying to the window. Down on the porch, right where Dean left him, Castiel has passed out. “Cas!”

Dean is on the porch in no time, picking up Castiel as best he can and bringing him inside. He’s in a worse shape than before, now both nostrils and his ears are bleeding. 

“Into the living-room,” the ghost instructs him, showing him the way to a big, vintage red sofa where the unconscious boy will fit comfortably. The doors of the house open themselves up to let Dean in which for once he doesn’t find creepy but useful. He has no idea if that’s Seir or the house moving things around on its own and he frankly doesn’t care.

With gentleness, he lays Castiel down and kneels by his side. Cas is pale, dirty, bloody and sweaty. Dean slaps his face a little, trying to wake him up but doesn’t receive any response. 

“Is he okay?”

His eyes scan the room and find the nightmarish spirit floating in a corner of the room, once again hiding as much as possible from the light. 

“He’s very weak,” Seir tells him. His solemn but calm tone reassures Dean there’s no urgent danger though. “But Castiel is strong. He will recover. You can go now...”

Seir holds his gaze, almost challengingly. Dean knows that look for what it is; a threat, a warning. If Dean so much as tries to get the upper hand while the owners of the house are out of it and can’t protect themselves, Seir will make sure he defends his master and brings down Hell itself on Dean’s pitiful ass.

“Unless you want to stay,” the spirit finally offers.

The moment Dean blinks, the foggy shape is gone and the black crowd returns, landing gracefully on the backrest of the sofa. The bird studies his master with affection in its eyes and jumps down to lay down by Castiel’s shoulder. Its posture is protective as he looks up at Dean, like it's measuring the hunter’s next move.

Dean takes one last look down at Cas. He moves a few locks of hair away from Castiel’s closed eyes. Worry still makes his chest feel constricted. 

Somewhere inside the house, the phone rings. Castiel’s grandmother and Dean share a brief look, both unsure of what he should do. He decides to pick up; worse case scenario he’ll just take a message, but it occurs to him that it could be Sam calling for news or even his dad asking what the hell he’s up to.

The ghost guides him to the phone and Dean is slightly confused but also glad to hear Charlie’s voice.

“Dean? What the hell is going on?” she asks. She sounds agitated and worried sick. “My mom said Cas left in a rush and he looked so worried. And then Sam called me—”

“It’s alright, everything’s okay.”

“Then why are  _ you  _ picking up the phone? God, you didn’t have some sort of fall out with the witches, right? I know you’re a hunter but they’re my  _ friends _ —”

“Charlie, seriously, it’s all good. I think.”

“What happened?”

“Gabriel stole my key and it cursed him and he almost died so Castiel begged me to forgive him to lift the curse.”

There’s a long pause as Charlie takes everything in before she finally speaks again.

“So… so know he knows you know?”

Dean nods, then realizes she can’t see her. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re gonna have to, err… have a chat. But he’s out right now. He had to, hmm, use his magic to keep Gabriel alive until I lifted the curse. He’s pretty drained so…”

“So Can I tell him I know too? Wait, why am I even asking you? I am going to tell him.”

She manages to make Dean chuckle and for that he’s grateful.

“As soon as he’s up again, he’s all yours. Listen, I’ve gotta go. I’ve got to...” Dean looks around the house, drowning in its silence. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, knowing full well that he has too much of a big old weak heart to just leave the Novaks passed out, weak and vulnerable, in the house all alone by themselves. Except for the spirits that protect them. “Gotta take care of these two idiots.”

He sighs, hating himself for always making the decision that probably goes against his own interest but he knows there’s no other option, he’s staying. His mom would want him to stay and look after her friends, that’s all he can think of.

“‘K. Talk to you later. Let me know if you need help.”

“Thanks but I think I’ll manage. Do me a favour and tell Sam I’m okay but I’ll be home later, not sure when.”

“Sure thing. Bye.”

Dean puts the phone down. Turning to the ghost, he asks, “bathroom?”

“Follow me, darling.”

From the bathroom Dean gets two small towels and a bucket with water. He takes care of Gabriel first, making sure he’s comfortable with a pillow under his head and a thin blanket over him. Then, he soaks one towel in the water and squeezes the liquid out before folding it in two and laying it on Gabriel’s forehead. His eyes are constantly on the snake who throws warning glances at him all the time, like it is just daring Dean to make a move on its master. 

“Gabriel? Can you hear me?” he asks carefully. He doesn’t obtain a response from him but at least the witch is still breathing. “Come on, man, pull it together, Cas needs ya…”

Dean gets a glass of water for Gabriel and leaves it in the nightstand, then turns his full attention towards that one witch that’s caused nothing but trouble for him since the day they met. That infuriatingly fascinating boy that is Castiel.

First, Dean cleans his face; his cheeks, his forehead, his lips... Slowly and no doubt that with affection, he cleans the dried blood, some of the sweat and the dirt. He cleans his neck, his hands. His lips are devoid of colour. Dean soaks the fabric in water, washing the dirt and the blood away, then lays it on top of Castiel’s forehead. He stares, waiting for Castiel to breathe, but he’s perfectly still, almost scarily so.

“Cas…?”

No response. Something tugs at Dean’s heart, seeing Castiel like this. He wants to be angry but he does nothing but hope the witch recovers.

“It’s not fair,” he whispers to himself. “It’s my turn to be mad at you. So you… you’d better recover, man.”

“Your mother would be proud,” Castiel’s grandmother tells him as she kneels down next to Dean. Her words almost bring him to tears. “She had such a selfless spirit too… I know what Gabriel did was wrong but you did the right thing forgiving him.”

Dean huffs. “I’m not sure I forgive him 100%.”

“You do,” she states matter-of-factly, smiling kindly. “You couldn’t have lifted the curse if you didn’t. If I’ve learned something living with these boys for so many years is that magic requires honest intent. You would do anything to keep Castiel safe, even if it means doing something that’s hard for you. That’s usually the way it goes with soulmates.”

At first Dean chuckles but then he grows quiet, her words running around his mind on repeat.

“I don’t think we’re soulmates,” Dean confesses and there it is, plain and clear, the disappointment in his voice. He likes the sound of it but they cannot be, not when everything between them always seems to go wrong. It would sort of make sense, it would explain why Dean always felt this longing, this need to come back and see Castiel or why he just can’t find it in himself to truly hate Cas, but he attributes that instead to him being stupid and self-destructive. 

“Oh but I  _ know _ you are.”

Dean frowns and turns to sit directly looking at her. The way she so confidently stated that couldn’t help but catch his attention. “What do you mean you  _ know _ ?”

A complicit smile grows wider in the woman’s face. “If he didn’t tell you, I certainly won’t,” she whispers to him, then vanishes.

“What does  _ that _ mean?” Dean exclaims, talking to thin air. His eyes find Castiel’s delicate features again. He’s so handsome Dean can’t pretend being mad at him makes him any less attracted to Cas. He just cannot help himself, like it’s his destiny to be forever infatuated with the witch. Shyly, like the hadn’t almost had sex last weekend, Dean reaches out to touch his hand, finding comfort in the weak but definitely present pulse he can feel. “What does that mean?”

Dean waits. At first, especially with Seir watching him, he is shy to do anything but wait by Castiel’s side, but eventually he grows bold by his boredom. He looks around without intending to snoop around, examining the decoration and all the little fascinating things the Novaks have accumulated throughout the years. There are all sorts of curious items, old paintings and antiques to study; Sam would go crazy in a place like that but Dean's not too into that sort of stuff, it just looks sort of cool in his opinion but that's about it. He grabs a book of short stories he knows Cas was reading not too long ago and starts reading. Around noon he makes himself a sandwich, then takes his place on the floor with his back against the red sofa where Cas is recovering. He reads some more but around the end of the afternoon, after checking on Gabriel a few times as well, he ends up falling asleep. He only sleeps for a few minutes though until a faint groan and Castiel’s moving arm alert him back to consciousness. 

He turns around just as Cas is moving his head a little, eyes trying but finding it hard to gather the strength to open themselves and  _ remain _ open.

“Cas!” Dean beams, cupping his face with one hand. “Cas, buddy, can you hear me?”

Cas groans again. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He takes a deep breath and gives it another try. “Dean?” he finally gets out although very fairly.

“Yeah, it’s me. You okay?”

In response Castiel only narrows his eyes a little at him and shakes his head slowly from side to side.

“You’ll be fine, come on, don’t be such a baby,” Dean teases him, trying to coax a response from him. “Here, have some water. Your lips are all chapped, man.”

With one hand below his head, Dean helps him keep it up while he brings a glass of water to his lips. He drinks slowly but in the end finishes the entire glass with a content sigh.

“Thank you.”

“Do you want more?”

“No, I mean… Thank you… for staying.”

The young witch opens his eyes enough to convey some meaning through them and gives Dean the faintest but still sweetest of smiles. Dean hates to love it but man does it make him feel warm inside.

“Well, you owe me some answers. You promised.”

Castiel’s smile immediately dies down. Dean wants to tell him he didn’t mean it like that, that he stayed because he cares, but then again something selfish in him is glad that he can also make Cas feel bad even though he hates it.

“I know you’re angry at me,” Castiel speaks weakly but with intent, “but I really need you to know, I really enjoyed our date—”

Dean holds a hand up and shakes his head. He doesn’t want to hear it. “Cas, don’t—”

“Please, let me, Dean,” the other boy insists as he tries to lift himself up from the sofa. What should be a simple movement seems to exhaust him deeply so Dean pushes him down by the shoulders to force him to rest again. “I really wanted to... you know... with you, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t take the key from you. And you have no idea what it means to me.”

“I know, Cas. I found the bunker. And I found everything I needed to know there. Well, almost everything. A letter from my mom explained most of it and we also found a lot of information about the murders that happened back then. A little heads up: Charlie and Sam know too, they were there with me.”

Cas is quiet for a moment, taking in all that information and what it means. Dean waits, wondering if Castiel will be relieved that he doesn’t have to explain as much as he thought he would or upset that Dean’s been keeping secrets from him all along. That wouldn’t be fair though, Dean thinks, as the witch has also been doing just the same. Momentarily, Castiel’s expression is rather unreadable as he processes everything.

“You’ve known? All this time? And you didn’t say anything?”

Dean shakes his head and gives him a small apologetic smile. “I figured it was for the best. You didn’t wanna tell and I didn’t want to put you in the spotlight.”

Bracing himself for the other’s reaction, Dean takes a deep breath and studies Cas.

“And... you still went out with me?” the witch finally says, tilting his head to the side in that way that Dean finds irresistible and endearing. He can’t help but laugh at the shock in Castiel’s face.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I am a  _ witch _ . And you’re a hunter. We’re supposed to be at each other’s throats. Peacefully ignoring each other, at best.”

“Says who?”

“Says  _ centuries _ of history.”

Dean shrugs, somewhat torn between his brain, which tells him being closed to Cas hasn’t proven to be his greatest idea so far, and his heart, his  _ treacherous _ heart that is still infatuated with Castiel.. “Well, I’ve never been good at history or following rules.”

Castiel chuckles and lays back down, eyes never leaving Dean. For a moment they just look at each other, the tense atmosphere around them finally dissolving after a long week of drama and nerves.  _ Soulmates, _ crosses Dean’s mind again, the way they always seem to come back to each other.

“There are a few things I don’t know,” Dean starts. “Like... what’s the deal with that bird?”

“Seir?” Dean nods as the bird’s head perches up when it hears its name being called. “He’s my familiar. He’s actually a spirit from Hell, a very smart one.”

“... Should I be concerned about that?”

“Oh, no,” Castiel chuckles as if Dean is being absurd, “he’s harmless. Unless you threaten me… Then he will probably try to murder you.”

“Oh, okay…” Dean laughs nervously but definitely keeps that in mind. Not that he’s planning to ever hurt Cas, though. “Why is your grandmother a ghost?”

“Why does anyone become a ghost?” the other counters, doing a one arm shrug. “Unfinished businesses. She couldn’t cope with the loss of my mother, her spirit refused to leave in hopes to find out what happened to her. When we told her, she still couldn’t leave.”

“Why?”

“She wanted to remain where her daughter was, trapped here, and wanted to take care of me, I guess… I found her when I was a kid, not many years after… well, after everything that happened. I was upset and I walked so far from home I ended up in the cemetery. I found her there, wandering in the night. I took her home with me and she’s lived in the house ever since. She can’t leave, she’s tied to it. The house keeps her sane; usually ghosts go mad and become violent after so many years. Although she's… slowly fading away…” Castiel lowers his voice, probably fearing his grandmother will hear. There’s a sadness in his voice that makes Dean want to pull him into a tight hug. “I can tell, she’s distracted and very quiet… but at least she’s still kind and loving.”

Dean knows what he means immediately, with the way the ghost sometimes loses track of a conversation and seems to get engrossed in her own thoughts. It saddens him but he can’t imagine what it must be like for Cas, who is actually close to her.

“And all those murders back then… do you know what happened?”

Castiel hesitates. Dean sees it but he waits, giving him time to go through with his promise. He strongly believes Cas is going to bullshit him and try to cheat his way out of the truth. As uncomfortable and inconvenient as it may be for him, Cas promised to tell the truth and so he does.

“We don’t know everything, we don’t know who did it… but we think we know  _ why _ they did it and… and whose orders they were following.”

Another pause. Castiel knows that the more he reveals, the less likely it is that he’ll get to convince Dean to hand over the key willingly, but a man is only as good as their word is so he’s bound to tell the truth, to tell Dean everything he wants to know, no matter the cost for him…

He swallows hard before he continues.

“My mother figured it out, she found a spell, a  _ terrible _ spell to ask Satan to break the deal my family made with yours, which would allow Hell to walk into Earth. The spell requires great sacrifices, it’s truly heinous dark magic. The last sacrifice had to be the person you loved the most. My mom suspected it had to be one of my brothers and that my dad was in danger so she gave the key to your mom which…”

“Turned her to stone,” Dean finished for him when Cas trails off in a low voice. Their hands find each other, their fingers interlock. “I’m sorry about that, Cas.”

“It wasn’t Gabriel,” Castiel quickly attempts to convince him, even though Dean gave no signs of accusing anybody. He sounds desperate to be believed in. “I swear, it wasn’t him. In fact he made a blood oath with me to protect this planet which means he will die before allowing any harm to come to it, quite literally. That is proof enough that he’s innocent.”

“So you don’t know  _ which _ of your brothers wanted to break the deal?”

Cas shakes his head, running a hand through his hair nervously. “I have three more brothers. We guess whoever it was had someone working for them here. They couldn’t do it themselves, it would have been obvious and we could have tracked their magic. We witches, we can sense each other, even more so those who have a familiar presence.”

“What does your dad think?”

“He doesn't know.”

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up. “Dude, what? You didn’t tell him one of his children is trying to  _ kill _ him?”

“As long as the door is closed he doesn’t need to know, he’s not in danger. All my brothers love him, they wouldn’t kill him unless it was for this spell, I am sure. I mean, they had years to act on their desires and nothing’s happened. I don’t want to… to break his heart, Dean.”

“So why would you want to open the door? That’s why you wanted the key, isn’t it?”

“Because my entire family is there. My dad is a very powerful witch, if we tell him it’ll be okay, he’ll be alert and safe. And—and if he returns, he can forgive my mother like you forgave Gabriel and lift the curse. Dean, I could get my mother back. I just need the key.”

Castiel’s hopeful eyes are wide open now with newfound energy, born of hope and love. If anyone understands what it’s like to want your mother back, it’s Dean. If anyone can take mercy on him and bend the rules a little, it’s the boy sitting on the floor, holding his hand.

But Dean averts his eyes and squeezes Castiel’s hand. The moment he starts to shake his head, Castiel pulls his hand away.

“Cas, you know I can’t…”

“Dean, please!” Cas begs, getting agitated again. “It’ll be safe this time!”

“My mom died to protect that door.  _ Your _ mom did too. And you want me to open it? Knowing that there’s a maniac trying to bring Hell on Earth?”

“I can stop it! We can stop it, together.”

“No, Cas, it’s too risky, I’m sorry.”

“Get out,” Castiel growls through gritted teeth. 

Dean opens his mouth to protest, to convince him, but deep down he knows he’d act the same way if it were him begging for his mother’s life.

“Get out!” Castiel yells at him. The lights flicker with the wave of the witch’s anger, his  _ pain. _

Reluctantly, Dean gets up and drags his feet out the door wondering if this is also something they can bounce back from. Soulmates or not, they can never get a break. Every time things seem to start working out, they fall apart all over again.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on a roll today, guys.

Dean spends the next day with Sam and Charlie, although he really wishes to be alone for a while. He tells them everything that happened. Charlie wants to visit Cas but Dean suggests she gives him some time to process everything before reaching out to him about all of this. He really wants to talk to him too and work out a way to be friends even though Dean is the only thing standing between Cas and his family now  _ and _ he’s also still not completely over what happened between them the previous weekend. It makes him uneasy to think that all the signs point that they shouldn’t be together; whenever they get close, things get messy but Dean can’t shake this desire to be with Cas anyway or at least be friends for the sake of Charlie, Garth and Benny. He’s conflicted though... Could soulmates really be a thing and he should work towards a relationship with Cas or is he just being his old self-destructive self? Does he just want Cas because he loves to put himself through shit or is it because he wants to get lost forever in those perfectly blue eyes?

At least now that they know most of the truth, except for what not even the Novaks know, which is who was behind the murders all those years ago, they can focus on something else and more urgent; saving Castiel’s mom. Their research takes a dramatic turn and after they put away the books and other resources they had gathered and neatly organize them back into their proper shelves (under Sam’s extremely careful and critical watch), they start looking for new material. None of them really know if there is something out there that can help her and they’re really not that hopeful because if Castiel’s family has not been able to find a way with all their combined centuries or millennia of knowledge, the chances of them finding the solution are slim to none, but they still try, out of love for Cas (and well, Sam plays along out of sympathy for the guy).

That evening, before they leave, Dean stores away the key in the bunker for safekeeping, just in case. It feels odd and a little wrong to take it off after carrying it with him almost his entire life but he also knows the bunker is the safest place on Earth so it’s for the best. After their near death experience, Dean doubts the Novaks will try to steal the key again but he figures he’d rather just entirely avoid the possibility in the future and save themselves any more drama and unpleasant surprises in that department.

Castiel doesn’t show up to school on Monday. Charlie and Dean share a knowing look at lunch when Benny asks about him; Castiel is  _ never _ sick, not ever, not since they met. Charlie just shrugs his worries away and says it had to happen someday. Garth narrows his eyes at them ever so slightly and Dean knows he knows they know something—then his brain hurts a little from that thought. Still, as usual, Garth keeps his suspicions to himself and doesn’t force them to share something they don’t want to talk about. Benny, on the other hand, seems to be a little bit more surprised that they don’t even want to touch the subject, as if it were something delicate, and change the subject quickly.

The next day, Cas is a no show again. Dean wonders if he should call and gets anxious wondering if the Novaks are fine, if they’re recovering properly. What if the curse did more damage that they had originally thought and the brothers are just rotting in that house of theirs with no one to discover their bodies for days? Sam tells him not to worry, that Seir would have come to ask for help if Castiel was in any danger. It doesn’t put him totally at ease but it makes sense so Dean discards the idea that his soulmate has become maggot food.

The witch finally shows his face on Wednesday. Other than having a tired aura about him, he seems to be perfectly fine. Dean tries to catch his eyes, but Castiel does that thing where he purposely ignores him. He sits in the opposite side of the room during class, eyes on the professor at all times like his life depends on it. Not one smile reaches his lips all morning and at lunch he keeps away from his friends. Dean’s sure it’s because of him so he does the honourable thing and stays away himself the next day to allow Castiel to go back to his friends; the last thing Cas should be is lonely right now, Dean knows the witch needs his friends’ support more than he does. Castiel doesn’t take the opportunity to sit with his friends though, afraid of facing Charlie. He’s got no idea what to expect, what she might think or say about him; will she have told Benny and Garth? Will she be mad that he never told her his secret or will she be afraid of him? She hasn’t shown any signs that she is but he is still afraid of a possible confrontation and he truly doesn’t want to fight her, of all people.

But before the soulmates can keep dancing around each other, their friends simultaneously decide they have finally had enough of their coming and going awkwardness, their intermittent and weird friendship and the arguments between them that they never really care to explain to the rest of the group. So that Friday Benny and Garth talk to Dean while Charlie intersects Castiel on the hallway during their lunch time and drags him outside to have lunch with her when he says he doesn’t feel up to joining the whole gang in the cafeteria. 

“You’re not doing this again, Cas!” she scolds him, pulling from his backpack as she strides towards the bleachers. “I’m not letting you push me away. You can finally be totally honest with me so come on, spill it out, talk to me.”

She lets her own backpack slide down her arm and land on the ground with a  _ thud _ . She then crosses her arms over her chest, adopting a demanding post, waiting for him to answer.

Castiel, going away everything he’s ever been told, finally breaks. If he’s honest with himself, despite his fears and concerns, he’s been  _ dying _ to tell someone else for years.

“I’m a witch.”

Despite already knowing this, Charlie squeals with excitement and pulls Cas down to sit with her. The bleachers are cold and a little wet; his worries may or may not have caused some light rain earlier that morning, but as she grabs his hand and listens carefully and with interest to everything he has to say, he can’t help but feel warm and relieved. 

Garth and Benny, on the other hand, surprise Dean by sitting him down and practically forcing him to talk about his feelings. Dean admits he’s still somewhat hurt by the events of the previous weekend, although Cas already apologized about it. He doesn’t want to go into details to protect Castiel’s privacy (Benny cannot roll his eyes further into his skull when Dean says this) but he tells them Cas is upset over a disagreement they have.

“Look, Cas is a big boy, he’ll come around. I know you like him but you’re not responsible for his feelings and you don’t have to choose between us or him.  _ We _ ,” Benny empathizes, gesturing towards Garth and himself with one hand, “don’t want to choose between him and you. You guys keep making that decision for us and it’s honestly very awkward.”

Garth nods in agreement. “I don’t know what’s the problem here but you guys should talk it out instead of avoiding each other.”

“I  _ want _ to!” Dean defends himself.

“Then  _ talk _ to him,” Garth insists. “Castiel looks tough but he’s a softy inside. Just keep trying until you get through that stubborn head of his.”

“Don’t think we don’t see him making eyes at you, brother. He’ll give in eventually,” Benny adds.

Dean can’t help but chuckle, his friends’ positivity contagious. As Benny pats his shoulder encouragingly, he knows he made the right choice returning to his hometown; he does belong here, after all, and he’s found the friends he always wanted to have.

Following that newfound hope his friends gave him, Dean has the courage to show up to Castiel’s that weekend. The gang has plans to watch a movie at Garth’s that night (his parents are making homemade pizzas which Dean is extremely excited about) and Dean thinks it would be a good idea to drop by a few hours before to clear the air between them and spare their friends of the awkwardness that makes everybody uncomfortable. The boys owe it to their friends, who have tried to be as understanding as possible for weeks now.

Despite his courage, Dean is nervous. He parks the car before the gates and strides with confidence towards the house. It still needs to be worked on for repairs, he thinks, if the Novaks will allow him back.

Sitting on the porch is Gabriel. Dean walks up the stairs leading up to the door awkwardly holding his gaze, face straight. He stops at the top of the stairs and they both study each other for a moment before Gabriel stands up and walks towards him with his hands in his pockets. His snake is lazily resting on his shoulders, only momentarily lifting its head to look at Dean before he relaxes again.

“Dean.”

“Gabriel.”

The witch chews the inside of his cheeks for a moment, before putting his pride aside and offering his hand to Dean.

“Thank you. For lifting the curse.”

Dean lifts an eyebrow and says, “ _ aaand _ ?”

Gabriel rolls his eyes and for a moment Dean doesn’t think he’ll say it, but finally he mutters an unenthusiastic, “sorry.”

Grinning with satisfaction, Dean shakes his hand. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Don’t push it, I’ll curse you, kid.”

“I know you can’t,” Dean retorts with a cocky smile. “I don’t think you’ll be trying again but just so you know the key is in the bunker now, there’s no way to try to steal it from me.”

“I didn’t  _ steal  _ it, technically,” Gabriel says, “you took it off willingly.”

“You  _ tricked  _ me,” Dean points out. He’s not mad anymore, not really, only slightly resentful, but more than anything he wants Gabriel to admit the flaw in his plan so he won’t try again and get himself killed. “You know it, I know it, the curse knows it, that’s why your plan didn’t work, isn’t it?”

“I still think it should have technically worked,” Gabriel stubbornly maintains. 

Dean can’t help but chuckle and shake his head at him. “Is Cas home?”

Gabriel nods and turns towards the house. “I’ll get him for you.”

With all pretence of being normal gone now, the door opens itself to let Gabriel in despite Dean being there and he disappears into the house. Dean buries his hands on his pockets and fidgets nervously, changing his weight from one foot to the other. He tries to quickly practise what he wants to say but the words leave him when Castiel shows up. He seems just as hesitant and lost for words as Dean. Looking into each other’s eyes for way too long, neither knows what to say but at least neither seems eager to start an argument either.

Dean finally settles on a simple, “can we talk?” 

It’s an invitation; Cas can just say no and that’s that, Dean will move on as best as he can and leave things alone, share friends with the guy but accept that Castiel doesn’t want to have anything else to do with him… Or he can say—

“Okay.”

Just as the door opened on its own, it closes when Castiel steps out and walks towards the garden without saying a word. Dean follows him, just a few feet behind, slowly catching up to be next to him without realizing he’s doing it. Cas leads the way, where to it doesn’t really matter to Dean. They stroll past the garden into the quiet woods that surround the property, both completely silent.

“Cas,” Dean starts at the same time Cas lifts his head and also calls his name. They both stop abruptly to let the other speak, then chuckle nervously.

“If you’ve come to apologize, you don’t have to, Dean,” Castiel says. He takes a deep breath and sighs. There’s an air of defeat about him. “You were right.”

The look of surprise in Dean’s face makes Castiel huff a laugh.

“You weren’t expecting that, were you?” Dean shakes his head in response, smiling in relief that they can talk about this instead of arguing yet again. “What else can I say, Dean? It’s not fair of me to ask you to open a door to Hell when some lunatic, who still hasn’t been caught, tried to bring on the Apocalypse. And I have… I’ve had dreams about it myself. Premonitions, warnings… You’re right, it’s not safe and it’s not right of me to put everyone else at risk for the sake of my own selfish desires.”

“It’s your family, Cas, I get it,” Dean comforts him because he truly does understand Castiel’s motives but he still cannot allow the door to open.

Castiel nods, appreciating the empathy, but still rather sad about the overall outcome of the events. Dean wants to cheer him up, support him, hold him, but he doesn’t know anymore what’s appropriate and what is not for them, where they stand in their strange friendship and the attraction that still has to be there, even if it’s subdued by all the awkwardness. 

“I’m trying to find another way,” Dean says in a barely there whisper, those feelings of guilt still twisting his stomach every time he takes a look at Castiel’s grieving face and slumped shoulders.

Castiel lifts his eyes and gives him a questioning look.

“To bring your mom back.”

“Dean—”

“I bet your family has tried and failed to find something to lift the curse but the bunker has  _ a lot _ of material you didn’t have access to before. Charlie, Sammy and I have started looking—”

“Really?”

Castiel is deeply moved by that. Dean smiles at him and touches his shoulder, squeezing it. It feels right to be able to touch Cas again and when he pulls his hand away, he closes it and opens it again, feeling the skin tingle.

“Of course. Look, I can’t promise we’ll find something but I  _ can _ promise that I will try. That’s what friends are for.”

He’s not very convinced but Castiel appreciates the gesture so he just goes along with it. They continue walking until they reach the cemetery in the Novaks’ land. Dean is somewhat perturbed by the place, where the air seems colder and stiller than anywhere. Cas stops by the edge of the woods, observing his family’s small satanic church from afar. After coming to terms with his decision to let the door to Hell remain close and give up all efforts to open it, he can’t help but feel like he’s abandoned his own people and Satan’s plans for him. He also starts to wonder if that’s such a bad thing as he knows that there are other ways for him to be happy that doesn't include taking over a whole world, even if right now he’s processing his grief from giving up his family. That's what hurts the most, in the end. He wishes he could have it all but deep down he understands Dean's decision, even agrees with it; it's the sensible and smart thing to do. Now that he no longer wishes to fulfil the destiny the devil had apparently been planning for him, now that he _fears_ it again, he cannot argue with Dean that the safest move is to keep the door to Hell closed and honour their mothers' decisions.

“What’s that place?” Dean asks.

“It’s our church.”

“I thought you guys were satanists?”

He nods and gestures towards the little building. “And this is where we pray and perform our rituals.”

“Huh… I didn’t know you guys prayed.”

“Of course we do. What did you think, that being a satanist it’s just killing goats and trying to take over the world or whatever?”

Dean gives him a cheeky grin that's supposed to bring out a smile on him (and it does) and shrugs. 

“Dean, satanism is not what most people make it out to be. Even people without magic practise it, people who don’t even  _ believe  _ in Satan. Satanism is about freedom and justice and respecting yourself and pursuing your desires. It’s about sexual acceptance and freedom, and embracing all there is about yourself, the good or the bad, and about not bowing down to anyone. It’s about empowerment and pursuing knowledge. Indulgence instead of abstinence. Standing up to your enemies and not letting people walk all over you.”

“Okay but you can’t tell me Satan’s all good and freedom and love,” Dean argues, trying to be careful with his choice of words so as to not offend Castiel but it’s  _ Satan  _ they’re talking about.

“No, of course he’s not,” Cas admits right away, “but neither is God. He’s punished his own and others much more severely than Satan. Read the bible, he’s killed a lot more people than Satan. He’s allowed so many dark chapters in history to happen. How is he so much better than my god? I’m not saying the devil is perfect but he was God’s son and God turned on him just because Satan was unwilling to bow down to humans and serve them. How would you feel? Of course he holds a grudge against humans and against God.”

Realizing he’s touched a nerve there, Dean raises his hands in defeat. “Hey, I’m not a religious dude, you don’t need to convince me. I’m just… wary. It’s  _ Satan _ , Cas, come on. Isn’t he supposed to tempt you to the dark side or something? Isn’t he…  _ evil _ ?”

“Satan gives us witches the power to do great things, whether we choose to use that for our convenience, for good or for evil, that’s up to us. He gives us that, a  _ choice _ . He rarely ever intervenes. Dean, we’re all flawed, we’re all capable of good or bad, including God and Satan and witches and humans…”

“And what do  _ you _ choose to do with your power?”

Cas opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Eventually he closes it again and shrugs, truly lost for words. 

“I don’t know. I thought I knew what I was supposed to do… but I don’t know anymore.”

“Well, if you have no immediate plans, what do you say we head to the bunker and do some research before going to Garth’s?”

“I’m in.”

The boys go back to the house and this time Dean follows Castiel in. Before leaving Cas wants to change his shirt, try to do something about his hair (and he purposely uses the word  _ try _ because he usually fails to put it in order) and clean up a little bit. When they go up, Dean notices there’s a difference since the last time he was there. He guesses Cas did some cleaning before because now it  _ does _ look like the room of a witch, with peculiar things like several books of magic scattered across the room (in the bed, the floor, the desk), a figurine of Satan, curse boxes and a jar with something inside that Dean prefers not to look at, amongst other things. In the desk, there's even a red quill writing on its own over a piece of paper.

Castiel picks a shirt and shyly glances in Dean’s direction before he starts to change. Noticing his embarrassment, Dean turns away to give him some privacy. His eyes fall on the oval mirror on the wall which has a rather peculiar frame. 

Jokingly, Dean says, “mirror mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?”

Knowing what’s going to happen, Castiel turns around in time to see Dean’s reaction as Charlie’s image appears in the mirror. She’s at a store, getting her and Castiel’s favourite type of chips (Ruffles’ sour cheese and onions, Satan bless her!) before heading to Garth’s. An amusing set of emotions run through Dean’s face; shock first, as he hadn’t expected the mirror to show anything but his reflection; then utter bewilderment, after that amusement and, finally, as he narrows his eyes at the mirror, skepticism. 

“What the hell—”

“It’s a magic mirror, Dean.”

“No, yeah, thanks Captain Obvious, I figured that much,” Dean replies, “but why Charlie?”

“What, you don’t think she’s beautiful?” Castiel asks, an edge of defensiveness in his tone; he  _ will _ defend his best friend’s honour. 

“Of course I do! But, you know… I would have expected  _ you _ to be the answer.”

Dean’s answer has Castiel blushing profusely and babbling like an idiot, completely embarrassed and unable to take the compliment which to Dean just seemed to be the most obvious of truths. 

“I—hmm—thank you—I—”

Dean bursts out laughing and shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “Jesus, Cas, we’ve made out but you get this embarrassed over a compliment?”

Castiel shrugs apologetically. He picks up the dirty bowl and mug he’d left since breakfast and gets ready to leave.

“The mirror takes everything in consideration, the inside and the outside beauty. Charlie’s the fairest of them all in both ways. I’m… not as worthy…” he trails off with remorse, thinking of all the stupid things he did before and the ones he considered but didn’t get to do. How thankful he is that he didn’t…

“Do you always have to speak in rhymes to make it work?”

“Yes, my dad thought my mom would find it amusing.”

“So what can the mirror do?” Dean asks as he follows Castiel down the stairs, trying to distract the other boy from whatever is causing him shame or regret.

“A lot. It’s actually quite the powerful occult object. It shows the past and the present. The future is too unpredictable. I can also communicate with Hell through it. I can see memories or what people are doing at the moment—”

“Wait, then why didn’t you ask the mirror to show you where the key was?” Dean asks. Then a better idea occurs to him and he gasps with excitement. “Why don’t we ask the mirror who is behind all the murders or which of your brothers was trying to break the deal?”

“We can’t do that. The mirror has its limitations. It cannot show me what people don’t want me to see. So if someone has a secret they wouldn’t want me to know, the mirror can’t show me that. Your mom didn’t want us to know where the key was, she wanted it to disappear with you. I spent a long time wondering why my mother didn’t want us to know why she chose to betray our family when she gave your mom the key, we could never see what happened that day in the mirror. Now I know the truth, I think she wanted to spare us from the pain, you know? The truth was her burden. It would break my father’s heart to know one of his sons was the culprit. She was willing to be the bad guy to spare us from more pain.”

Now in the kitchen, Castiel puts the bowl down in the sick. The sponge immediately starts to wash it on its own. Dean only spares it a moment of attention and he can’t help but be jealous that Cas doesn’t have to do the dishes himself.

“My mother was amazing,” Cas states matter-of-factly, a wave of affection for her overwhelming every cell in his being. He loves her so much, misses her so much, it makes him want to cry.

“She was,” Dean agrees in a soft voice. “She was a real selfless, loving mom, Cas. I would have loved to see her again.”

“Yes… Me too...”

Castiel sighs but decides not to let the subject keep bringing him down. It’s not what his mother would have wanted, she did what she did so he could have a life, a  _ good _ life.

“Did you ever, hmmm… ask the mirror about… me?” Dean asks although he’s not sure he wants to know the answer. Judging by the way Cas suddenly looks like a deer caught in the headlights, he already knows the answers.

“Yes,” he responds honestly although it sounds like it pains him to admit it. “And I’m sorry I did. I shouldn’t have. I took advantage of you, you wanted to be my friend so badly there was nothing you were keeping secret from me and—”

Dean holds a hand up to stop him, realizing he prefers not to know what Cas knows or doesn’t know. Something tells him he knows a little too much. He’s ashamed of a lot of things from his past but a part of him also wants to talk about them with someone at some point, which is probably why the mirror allowed Castiel to see Dean’s secrets, his painful memories. There are so many of them and they are all a burden for him. There’s so much he regrets, so many poor choices he made...

“It’s okay, Cas. We better just leave it at that.”

Castiel’s face contorts with shame. “I’m  _ really _ sorry, Dean.”

“I’m not mad, Cas. Just… don’t do it again, okay?”

Castiel nods many times. The look of discomfort doesn’t leave his face and Dean knows he’s drowning in guilt. Dean rolls his eyes and sights, breaking the space between them to pull Castiel into a hug.

“You’re a ball of guilt, Cas,” he whispers low in the witch’s ear, “can you relax a little, please?”

Not without hesitating a little, as if he didn’t feel he deserved the affection, Cas puts his arms around Dean too.

“I’m not great with that,” Cas whispers back, making Dean chuckle. He decides he likes the sound and Dean’s warm breath in his neck.

Dean pulls away and pats his shoulder, putting an end to all awkwardness between them. “Alright. All done here, should we go?”

“Yes, but… I just want to say that if at some point you want to talk… about anything…”

Dean nods, accepting the offer. He isn’t quite ready but he probably will take Cas up in the offer some day. “Thanks, Cas. Now let’s go get some homemade pizza.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gifs:  
> Dean's: sensitivehandsomeactionman   
> Magic quill: butteryplanet


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, it finally happens, Dean gets a break!  
> You got your fair share of chapters today.

**PART 2: A TOWN OF MURDER**

****

It’s quite cold outside, a very thin layer of snow covers every exposed surface. Inside the bunker is warm though, Dean never wants to leave again. Winter’s not his thing and he needs proper clothes for it. For starters, he needs new gloves, he knows he does, but he’s always very reluctant to spend money on anything that doesn’t seem absolutely necessary and urgent… like gloves for Sam. John scolds him when he finds out he bought his brother a pair instead of the boys telling him Sam needed them and insists Dean doesn’t have to act like Sam’s parent anymore but old habits die hard. Sam’s not used to asking for things and Dean’s not used to asking his dad for help when he notices Sam needs something. They’re all still adjusting to actually being a functional family but it’s getting easier and easier, with time.

Life is actually _finally_ quite good for the Winchesters; Dean’s actually not doing terrible at school for once in his life and he’s made close relationships that would make his past self cry with envy, John hasn’t touched a bottle of liquor so far and things with Charlie’s mom _and_ work seem to be going well, and Sam is quite the popular kid in his class, plus the teachers’ favourite what with his wits and brain. He finally has the stable home he needs to ensure he has a great future ahead of him, which is all Dean’s ever wanted for his little brother. 

So, considering all of this, Dean’s in a great mood despite the cold weather. There’s just one little thing that’s not so perfect and still bothers him, keeps him up at night thinking sometimes…

Dean peers at Castiel from the top of the book he’s holding. He’s been thinking much more than he’s been actually reading and helping with the research. Castiel’s engrossed in an ancient book of spells, muttering to himself, gasping in awe from time to time and scribbling quickly in a notebook where he keeps findings that interest him. So far they haven’t found anything to help them undo the curse that keeps his mother made of stone, but there are peculiar spells of other sorts that Castiel had never heard of before, some of which were created by the Men of Letters themselves.

He looks… well, _adorable_. His hair is all messy from wearing his winter hat (and it would be if he hadn’t as well, that’s just the way things are), the sweater he’s wearing hugs his torso in a very flattering way and the way he sticks his tongue out a little while he’s really concentrated in his research does things to Dean. He looks sweet, like the perfect boyfriend to cuddle with during the winter.

And yet he’s _not_ Dean’s boyfriend and there they are, stuck in a sort of awkward, kind of tense friend zone. Things are fine between them, they really are. Cas has grown to be a very close friend of his. There’s practically nothing Dean wouldn’t tell him and they’re both perfectly comfortable with each other, spending time together multiple times a week after school either to study together, research spells in the bunker or hang out with their friends. Dean is really grateful to finally have this with Castiel, he’s more than glad to have left the drama behind but it's also obvious that there’s still _something else_ between them, a sort of spark that goes beyond that of a great friendship. 

Old flames die hard, especially when Dean still wonders what was that all about when Castiel’s grandmother said the boys were soulmates. Are they really destined to be together? Should they try to be together because they’re supposed to or should they let it happen organically? Would it be wise to discuss it? What would that even be like? It stresses Dean out just to think about it, there _is_ no way to organically discuss the rest of their lives together. And Castiel hasn’t brought it up, not ever, so maybe Cas thinks it’s up to fate to bring them together or maybe he _doesn’t_ think they should be a thing, for some mysterious reason. Perhaps he’s come to the conclusion that it’s better if they remain friends which would make perfect sense…

However, soulmates or not, destiny be damned, it is undeniable that they’re into each other. Dean still catches Castiel staring at his lips. They still share longing looks that make his friends look away as if they were intruding on an intimate moment. Every time they touch, Dean longs for it to last longer. Dean would be downright delusional if he even tried to convince himself that he’s not attracted to Castiel, that he doesn’t think about kissing him. Often, it happens _very_ often. They gravitate around one another like fools, each completely charmed by the other, yet nothing’s happened between them, not since that first date they had which turned out to be a complete disaster in the end.

Sometimes he thinks Castiel is waiting for something, for Dean to act in a certain way or say something specific, to give him a sign that they can get back on track with whatever was happening between them before Castiel screwed things up. Sometimes Dean wants to give Cas a sign but finds himself hesitating. 

He’s afraid, he can admit that to himself if not to anyone else. He’s afraid of daring and then having things take a turn for the worse because everything is going well and years of experience say that’s _not_ the way it goes for the Winchesters. He can’t have it all, that’s just not how life works. In fact he’s used to not having _anything_ at all. He can’t have a functional parent, a constant roof over his head, decent grades (in his standards), awesome friends _and_ a perfect soulmate, it’s ludicrous. He’s terrified of the power Castiel has to break his heart. If they give it another go and it doesn’t work, it’ll crush him and it’ll ruin their friendship, which is pretty damn great at the moment. If Castiel does something shady again, it would shatter Dean’s delicate trust. Trust issues are at the top of the _many_ issues he has and Castiel has _not_ helped in that department. He’s afraid of disappointment and heartbreak and drama. Castiel was capable of lying to him before, he meant to manipulate and deceive Dean, even if he changed his mind about it later, and Dean cannot let that go easily.

It’s just better this way, sitting at a respectable distance from Castiel, watching him from afar, pretending they don’t steal glances in each other’s direction. It’s safe, it’s just easier.

Still, he can’t help but fantasize that he snatches the book from Castiel’s hands, presses him down on the couch and kisses him roughly, like he’s dying for it. Because he might be dying for it, burning with the desire to touch and kiss and undress and love.

When Dean sighs, Castiel lifts his gaze and finds him staring at him. Dean holds his breath, knowing there’s no point looking away, he’s been made. Castiel smiles at him, something small that feels intimate and has Dean melting into a puddle of affection. For a second he forgets all his reasonings behind why he’s not acting on his feelings but the next instant all his insecurities are back, as always.

“Is something the matter, Dean?”

Dean shakes his head and stretches his arms over his head. “Nah, I’ve just maxed out the amount of hours I can read for today.”

Castiel checks his wristwatch and nods. “We can head back if you want.”

“Oh, no, no. You seem really into—what is it you’re reading again?”

Castiel gives him a reproachful look when he asks yet again about the book the witch picked up, failing to understand its importance. “A copy of the Book Of Soyga, Dean. It’s one of the rarest books of magic and demonology in the world, there are only two original copies. I cannot fathom how the Men of Letters managed to get these transcripts!”

“A real mystery.”

“Indeed!” Cas agrees, blissfully ignorant to Dean’s teasing. “The collection here is truly magnificent.”

“Okay, _Hermione_. You can keep reading if you want.”

“No, we should go. I’m getting hungry. Aren’t you getting hungry?”

Dean shrugs as he puts his book down, crossing his arms over his chest. “Not particularly. Seriously, I don’t mind waiting for ya. I’d lend you the book but you know how Sammy gets about taking books out of the bunker. He’s such a stickler.”

“I understand, many of these books are practically irreplaceable… But no, thank you, let’s go grab something to eat. We’re late.”

“Late? For what?”

Cas averts his eyes and starts organizing his notes and papers neatly on the table. 

“For dinner with your family.”

Dean chuckles at Castiel’s sudden nervous demeanour; it seems John still intimidates him a little, even if they’re not dating and John treats him like any other of Dean’s friends.

“Alright, boss. I’ve gotta say, I’m really looking forward to my dad’s shepherd's pie. Who knew my dad could cook, huh?”

One of the parenting aspects John’s been developing, much to the boys’ pleasure, is his cooking skills. Recently he learned how to do shepherd’s pie and Dean loved it so much he asked for it for dinner on his birthday. He’s never really celebrated his birthday before, at least not that he can remember. Sam made him presents when he could but most of the time they barely had enough money to feed themselves, let alone give each other presents, so birthdays for them were never a big deal. It was better to pretend they didn’t care about it to avoid the disappointment of having their dad forget the date year after year and of not ever getting a cake or a really nice present. Plus they had no friends to celebrate with. With time they got used to not celebrating it, to the point where Dean nearly forgot about it this year. He remembered that morning though and used it as an excuse to have his dad cook what he wanted.

Castiel is quiet the entire ride home. From the corner of his eyes Dean can see him fidgeting with his hands. He tries to resist the urge to reach out and touch him but fails because he really wants to. He puts one hand over his friend’s, squeezing for a moment before he forces himself to pull away again, eyes always on the road.

“Calm down, Cas. My dad makes you that nervous?”

“Huh? Oh—hmm—sure.”

Dean huffs a laugh at the strange response and throws him a quick questioning glance. 

“You okay, buddy?”

Without meeting his eyes, Castiel nods and responds with an uptight, “a-ha.”

Considering Cas has been kind of weird lately (weirder than usual), Dean wonders if he should push the topic and get Castiel to spill the beans about what’s bothering him. Their unresolved romantic issues certainly cause tension between them but lately his friend has been extra nervous and Dean has no idea why or how to stop it.

“You sure?” Dean asks as he parks the car in front of the house. He turns off the ignition but makes no move to step out of the car, unlike Cas whose hand quickly flies to the door handle like he can’t wait to get out. 

“Yes, I’m sure. Let’s just go inside,” Castiel insists, smiling at Dean in the most convincing way. It’s not his greatest acting work. If anything, the smile’s a little manic.

Not wanting to pressure Cas into talking about things he obviously doesn’t want to share, Dean lets it go and follows him out of the car.

“Alright, you big weirdo…”

Castiel keeps his hands behind him at all times and smiles to himself while he follows Dean to the door. Dean throws him puzzled looks over his shoulder a few times. He can’t help but wonder what the hell is wrong with him. First he’s nervous, then he seems excited…

As Dean turns the key on the door, he tells his friend over his shoulder, “Cas, you’re acting _super_ weird, man.”

The moment the door opens, a loud eruption of _happy birthday!_ blows up in his face. Startled by the unexpected welcome, Dean jumps back, accidentally stepping over Castiel’s shoes. The witch doesn’t mind though, he just chuckles, his breath warm in Dean’s neck, and stabilizes him with his hands on the back of Dean’s shoulders.

“Happy birthday, Dean,” he says, low and kind, in his ear.

The living room is packed with his friends which include Pamela, Jo, Gilda and Ash, his family, Gabriel, Charlie’s mom and Garth’s parents. They have all gathered in secret to surprise him for his birthday. It’s almost too many people for their small home, but despite being crowded everyone’s staring at him with bright smiles. The room is decorated with balloons and there’s even a happy birthday banner. Dean only has a second to take it all in in complete awe before people rip him from Castiel’s hands and pull him into hugs, repeating their happy birthday wishes one by one. Dean is speechless with emotion, doing his best to smile and greet people through the lump in his throat. He only gets a proper word out when Garth’s mom pulls him into a hug.

“Happy birthday, dear! Oh, is it weird we’re here? Your dad ordered a cake and I told him there was no way we were charging you, it’s for Dean’s birthday! So he invited us. We made _all_ your favourites!”

“No, not at all, I’m glad he invited you,” Dean responds in all honesty. 

He loves to have them there, even if it’s weird to have his friends’ parents at his party. He likes the Fitzgeralds a lot, they’re the sweet type of parents he would have sold a kidney to have. Also, if he’s honest with himself, that insecure side of him that’s still very much a part of his personality would have never thought so many people would care about his birthday enough to show up, let alone gift him with all the food he’s now checking out. In the dining table and in every possible surface there are piles of food waiting to be devoured. There’s a giant chocolate cake, pizza, bite size sandwiches and cheesy quesadillas, different dips for chips and nachos and his absolute favourite: pie, not one or two but _three_ different kinds. Even though they’re quite the crowd, it’s still a ridiculous amount of food and Dean can’t help but hope John insisted and paid the Fitzgeralds _something_ for this food, although they could have never afforded to buy this much food for a party. 

John’s the last one to personally wish him a happy birthday. His smile is the widest, he glows with pride and happiness from giving his son such a nice surprise. People discreetly look away and make themselves busy to give them some degree of privacy. Dean can’t help but linger a little in his father’s arms before he pulls away, doing his damn best to fight the tears that want to cloud his eyes.

“Dad, I don’t know what to say. Did you do all of this alone?”

His father can’t help but bark a laugh. “God, no. I’d like to say I did but Sam and Castiel helped a lot.”

“Cas helped you?”

Dean’s eyes momentarily find Castiel in the crowd. He’s speaking to Gabriel, who hasn’t wasted a moment to dive in and grab a cheesy quesadilla now the birthday boy has arrived and the part has really started. Gabriel is the only one who looks slightly uncomfortable and out of place. Dean knows the witch doesn’t usually congregate with humans, except for Kali, and he’s not the most sociable of satanists, so he appreciates the effort of showing up. Although Castiel probably made him.

“He organized your friends and also kept you busy today while we did all this,” John says, gesturing around the decorations in the house. “It’s not much, but it looks nice, huh?”

“It’s perfect, dad. Thank you.”

“Dean…” John starts with that guilty tone that already says everything Dean knows his dad is thinking. With sobriety comes a lot of remorse and while Dean gets some sense of vindication from it, he wants to move past it too.

Before his dad can say anything else, Dean lifts a hand to stop him and say, “you don’t need to say anything, dad. Not today. Now let’s go get some pie, okay?”

It’s a weird mix of people but they sure have some fun. At least for Dean, it’s the greatest night ever. His heart could burst from his joy, everything is perfect in his eyes. He’s never felt more at home, more like he really belongs somewhere, than there sharing that night with his loved ones. It’s not even about the presents, which form a really nice pile in the corner of the living room; just thinking so many people gathered together to celebrate he exists blows his mind. Thinking his dad, Sammy and Cas spent days planning it, it almost brings him to tears.

The adults leave at some point, John spends the night at Charlie’s to leave the house alone for the kids to stay up all night if they want to. Dean promises no funny business, no alcohol, and means it; he wouldn’t want anything to spoil that night. Sam asks Dean if he can hang out with his friends and his older brother is more than glad to let him stayñ if someone doesn’t like his little brother hanging out with them, they can just leave. But of course Dean’s picked a good group of friends who welcome Sam just as they welcomed Dean. Looking around as his friends sit and talk loudly in the living room, Dean feels like the luckiest man of the world. And looking at Cas… Dean feels every bit of hesitation melting away.

“So _this_ is why you were acting weird,” Dean tells Cas when he finally catches him alone. And by alone, he means on the hallway on the way to the bathroom, where he waited for Cas. In retrospect it’s not a romantic, chance encounter but Dean just couldn’t wait to talk to him.

Castiel chuckles as he nods, relieved that the secret’s out now. “It was hard not to tell you but it was worth it.”

“Thank you. It means the world to me.”

“You deserve it, Dean. And actually, can we talk in your room for a moment?”

Dean’s pulse picks up: it’s showtime and he’s glad Castiel’s picking up on it without him having to explain.

“Yeah, sure.”

“I’ll be right there,” Cas says before he wanders off back into the living room, leaving a slightly confused Dean behind. 

Dean goes into his room and doesn’t have to wait for more than a few seconds before Castiel is back, this time carrying his backpack. He’s excited, closing the door behind him in a hurry. It’s obvious to Dean by now that Castiel did _not_ pick up on Dean’s intentions and that he wants to show him something instead, which is only mildly disappointing, but Dean doesn’t have the time to dwell on that train of thought before Castiel produces a small package from his backpack. It is small but heavy, fits nicely in just one of Dean’s hands and is covered by a simple gift wrapping paper.

“Happy birthday, Dean,” Castiel tells him again, using once more that affectionate tone that Dean wants to hear every day of his life. He anxiously shifts his weight from the tip of his toes to the heels, biting his lip in anticipation. “I couldn’t give it to you in front of the others. You’ll see why. Open it.”

“Thanks, Cas. You didn’t have to, you already gave me a present.”

“This is special though,” Cas explains as Dean unwraps the gift. In his hand now is a thick little box. “It took me a while and Gabriel’s help to get it to work.”

Dean hesitates before opening the box. “Is it magical?”

“Yes,” he responds enthusiastically, almost proudly.

“Is it safe?” Dean asks a little warily.

“Of course it is, Dean. Open it.”

Even though Dean’s not a magic lover, he trusts his witch friend so he opens the box. Inside there’s a small crystal ball perfectly encased so that it won’t move or break. Dean’s first reaction is confusion; why on Earth would Castiel give him a crystal ball as a present? He makes sure to keep the best poker face he can muster to not make Castiel feel bad for poorly judging what would make a good present for him. He’s about to ask what exactly the trick is supposed to be when he notices the surface of the sphere changing, his reflection fading away and being replaced at the same time by completely different images. He brings the sphere closer to his eyes, lips parted in amazement and he watches. As the images come to full focus and they’re finally recognizable, he almost drops the box.

“Is that—is that my mom?”

“It is. And the baby, that’s you,” Castiel explains as he shifts closer to also take a look at the sphere.

Dean watches in amazement as his mother lays in bed, tired and sleepy but too in love with her baby to close her eyes. She watches Dean sleep with an utterly happy smile on her lips. His entire hand is wrapped around just one of her fingers. It’s quite hard to hear over the loud chatting of their friends coming from the living room, but Dean could swear she’s humming something to him.

“Cas… what…” Dean clears his throat uncomfortably, eyes stinging; it’s been an emotional day.

“I used a spell similar to that of my magic mirror, but much simpler. This only shows memories, _your_ memories. Even if you can’t quite remember. Every time you open the box it’ll show you something different. Well, it’ll probably have to repeat memories at some point—humans only have so many memories, your lives are short... But it’ll show you something nice each time you open it.”

Mary closes her eyes and stops singing. The smile on her face never wavers. She looks so happy…

“I hope you like it. I hope it brings you joy.”

Dean tears his eyes away from the crystal ball to meet Castiel’s. Cas simply stares back at him, sitting there in silence looking illegally handsome. He doesn’t expect gratitude or anything in return. He doesn’t ask for what he wants, he probably doesn’t think he deserves it. He doesn’t make a move on Dean and probably thinks he already ruined the possibility of having a romantic relationship with him. He’s _just there_ , trying to bring happiness into Dean’s life, only because he cares and Dean can finally see that clearly for the first time. There are no ulterior motives this time, no initial motivation born out of selfish reasons. This is just Cas being Cas and everything Dean wants. For once, Dean doesn't try to hide how he feels anymore because Cas isn't and, _finally_ , it feels like it's the right time for them.

Without saying a word Dean puts down the box with the crystal ball on his desk and slowly leans in to kiss him. Cas has plenty of time to move if he wants to, though Dean is quite sure he won’t. Indeed, the witch doesn’t try to dodge the kiss when it comes, although the last thing Dean sees before closing his eyes is the adorable sight of confusion in the other’s face. The kiss itself doesn’t last more than a few seconds but it carries with it the promise of more to come and it’s enough to have Castiel blushing ten shades of red.

When Dean pulls away, Cas blinks a few times, lips parting in awe.

“I—I wasn’t expecting that.”

Dean chuckles.

“I know.”

“You didn’t have to—”

“I know.”

“But… hmm… I’m glad you did.”

“Me too. What do you say we go out on a second date soon?”

Castiel sucks in a breath and nods, grinning widely. The relief in his face tugs something in Dean’s heart.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the fluff chapter nobody asked for but we all deserved.
> 
> First gif: theletters2juliet


	23. Chapter 23

The winter carnival is coming to town and with them, a witch. Not just _any_ witch but Rowena, the one that had sent a ghost after Castiel’s mother in a jealous fit. Aware that there are Men of Letters around once more, she asks Gabriel, an old friend, to ask his brother to ask his boyfriend for permission to come into town. Knowing the Men of Letters are actually two boys and Rowena is an extremely powerful witch, he finds the request nothing but amusing. Still, he lets the Winchesters know there’s a new witch coming to town and while Dean doesn’t love it, he sure does love a carnival so he allows it (as if he could ever stop Rowena in the first place).

Castiel on the other hand is a little wary. If his friends weren’t so excited about it, he would rather not go to the carnival knowing there will be another witch there. Witches have mischievous tendencies and the last thing he needs is for another satanist to tease him for the extremely tamed life he’s chosen. As if things weren’t hard enough for him already…

Things with Dean are great, fantastic, perfect. They have officially been dating for over a month and thus far their relationship has been nothing but loving and easy. Dean is sweet and attentive and is blooming under a stable home and a consistent group of friends he has for support. He’s opening up to Castiel about things he went through and how he used to make very poor choices, including being very impulsive and reckless when it came to sex. He made it clear from the start that he wants to take things slowly to make sure he doesn’t do anything like that with Cas. And that’s all fine with him because he’s not a monster and he understands where Dean is coming from...

But, fuck, he’s dying to touch Dean. It’s so hard not to lust over him, not to fantasize with him, not to list in his minds all the things he’d like to try out with his boyfriend. It’s almost impossible to have such a handsome person be _right there_ next to him in bed and yet have his hands tied. Cas had already been building up sexual frustration _before_ Dean but now it’s reaching levels of torture. Every time their make out sessions turn a little bit too heated and Dean brings it to a stop, the elastic band that is Cas’ patience stretches just a little bit thinner and he’s not sure how much longer he can take it before the band snaps. He’s drowning in his desire to explore Dean’s body and have Dean explore his. 

It's not like he would ever pressure Dean because his patience is wearing thin but Castiel is so frustrated, so charged with tension that he has become, quite literally, _charged_ . His magic is exteriorizing his repressed desires and now Castiel has become a magnet for electric shocks. _Everything_ sends tiny but powerful shocks to him; touching someone else, touching a home appliance, sometimes barely grazing stuff he walks past. The cold winter has also made it worse, the dry air making him more prone to build up static electricity on the surface of his skin. He can barely touch Dean without getting shocked.

Gabriel finds the whole situation hilarious. His advice is to just _do something_ about it (and then he winked at his brother a few times, which Castiel found weird). 

“You’re the anti-satanist, Cas,” he mocks his brother. “I haven’t heard of this happening to a witch in centuries!”

Cas isn’t going to be _that_ guy and pressure Dean though, so he tries to cope in other ways. For example, he reads a lot to keep his mind busy, he avoids spending the night with Dean if possible and prefers to hang out with his boyfriend when there are also other people around. He exercises his magic, learning to control hellfire and playing with it. He also works out several times a week to blow off some steam. He’s getting fit which Dean notices and compliments him about, ogling Cas while he bites his lip in a way that instead of helping makes matters much worse for Castiel. He pleasures himself too, obviously, but it doesn’t help unwind for long. 

Busy, he needs to keep his mind busy and focused in anything else but Dean’s pretty lips, hypnotizing green eyes, rough hands, sexy arms—

Dean plants his hand in Castiel’s thigh and squeezes it, making his boyfriend jump into attention, almost dropping his fork. He squirms a little under Dean’s touch and really wishes Dean would pull his hand away.

“You’re coming after school too, right?”

“What?”

“To the carnival.”

“Oh… hmmm...”

Dean sees the hesitation right away in Castiel’s eyes. He still doesn’t get why Cas is so reluctant to be even near someone of his own kind, Castiel just doesn’t think Dean knows how annoying witches can be if they want to. He’d know, he grew up with a professional trickster. Also, she _did_ try to break his parents apart and, yes, it was over a decade ago, but Castiel is still offended on his mother’s behalf.

“Come on!” Dean insists before Castiel can say no. “We’re all going! Garth’s finally well enough to go.”

Garth had recently celebrated his birthday and became very ill immediately after. Food poisoning his parents thought was the problem, although none of his friends fell ill and they all ate the same. He’d been absent from school for days and Cas managed to delay the rest of the group from going to the carnival until Garth was better while hoping their friend wouldn’t be alright at all to go and they’d all miss it in the end. Worse than being around a strange witch was the thought of his friends and boyfriend being around her without Castiel there to keep an eye on Rowena.

“Oh, really?”

Benny gives him a quizzical look when Castiel's tone comes out so disappointed at hearing his friend’s doing better. “I don’t understand why you don’t wanna go, you love the carnival,” Benny points out.

And it’s true, Castiel is happy to go every year, when there’s not a real witch travelling with the carnival workers. Dean knows about Rowena but Benny doesn’t, so Castiel doesn’t have any real excuse to give to his mortal friend.

“I have a lot of homework to do,” Cas lies. He sighs, knowing there’s no way he’s letting everyone attend the carnival without him; this is his town and these are his friends and it’s his duty to protect them, even if Gabriel promised Rowena means no harm. Cas has heard enough stories about her to know she is more than capable of trouble, if she wants to. “But I guess I can go, for an hour or two.”

“An hour or two!” Benny repeats, outraged by Castiel’s lack of enthusiasm. “That’s just how long we have to stand in line for the rides, man. Keep dreaming.”

“We’ll get sick standing around in the cold.”

Castiel thinks maybe he could make it snow again. It’s been a rather cold winter, but not cold enough to deter their friends from going to the stupid carnival. 

Dean squeezes his thigh again, Cas grips his fork for dear life.

“Ah, don’t worry, babe, I’ll keep you warm,” Dean teases him with a devilish grin and Castiel just holds his breath, afraid of touching anything, anticipating another electric shock.

“Problem solved,” Charlie giggles.

After school, they pick up Garth on their way to the carnival. They’re all surprised to see he looks just fine except for a cut in his cheek. It's a long gash, sort of deep, but it looks to be healing rather well and fast, faster than Cas would have expected it to for such a recent injury; it cannot be more than a few days old, as that’s the last time they saw him. Castiel notices something different about him right away as well, something in the way he holds himself and moves, like he’s more graceful and taller. He looks anything _but_ sick, his skin is clear and his eyes are sharp and focused. When he gets into the car with them, he looks around with that kind and lazy grin of his, like he didn’t miss school the entire week because he was supposed to be severely sick.

“Hey, guys,” he says totally normally.

There’s a brief silence and Cas wonders if his friends are noticing the same things he is.

“All better, Garth?” Benny asks. He leans closer, smiling complicitly, and says, “you don’t look sick at all, brother.”

“Oh, I’m much better, thank you.”

Garth smiles innocently at Benny, either purposely ignoring the intention behind Benny’s words or honestly oblivious to it. Cas isn’t sure which of the two is happening and judging by Benny’s face, he can’t either.

“What happened to your face?” Dean asks after a moment, when Garth offers no further explanation about anything.

“I cut myself, dumb accident,” he shrugs like it’s not important. “Shall we go?”

Dean frowns, slightly taken aback by the short answer that doesn’t really say anything. He shares a questioning look with his boyfriend, who just shrugs, and starts the ignition again. 

“Alright, then,” Dean mutters to himself before he starts driving again, “guess we’re all weird this week…”

The carnival is not too far outside of town, located at a short distance between the three main towns around the area. Dean meets his brother at the entrance and gives him some money to spend on games and food, then they meet up with the rest of the gang inside. All their friends from the other town have already checked out the attractions while they waited for them. When they meet they tell Castiel’s gang about all the new attractions there are this year. 

Cas has to admit the place is rather lovely what with all the tents and the games and the colourful lights. The place is packed with people of all ages, families and friends, all of whom seem glad to stand in line and bear the cold for a while for the sake of having some outdoors fun. The number of attractions grew considerably compared to the previous year and Cas makes a mental note of trying to stay away from the fortune teller that he knows to be a real witch.

It’s really not hard to avoid Rowena. For starters, Benny was right, they spend a lot of time just lining up for the attractions. They break into smaller groups sometimes and head into different attractions. Cas doesn’t mind waiting, he enjoys the time he spends with his friends. He’s got Dean by his side who always has one if not both arms around him. Dean’s always so physical, like he cannot help but touch Cas somewhere if he’s under reach. Castiel just wishes there would be _more_ touching, that they’d go to the next level, but oh well, he has to wait. Still, Cas feels better with his boyfriend by his side. Dean is so charming and has this gift to talk to anyone and keep conversations rolling without awkward pauses, it helps Castiel feel more at ease in social situations. He’s not a people-person and he’s weird and quiet but Dean fills in the gaps for him and manages to include him in the conversations. He makes Cas feel comfortable and contained, seen and heard but not forced to carry on the weight of the conversation by himself. Everything seems better and easier with Dean by his side. Sure, they get some disapproving stares from strangers from time to time but Castiel just mutters a curse that causes them to slip on ice or drop their snacks in the dirty, muddy snow and walks away with a pleased smile.

They go into the Ferris wheel with Gilda and Charlie, each couple snuggling next to their significant other. Dean doesn’t love heights and mainly keeps his eyes on Cas, who holds him for comfort. The bumper cars give him several electric shocks which Cas doesn’t find amusing at all, but it’s one of his friends’ favourite rides so they make the queue twice. When the witch refuses to go a third time, Dean drags him to the tunnel of love instead. If Castiel’s learned something during their short relationship is that Dean loves to portray himself as a bad boy z a tough guy who likes cars and rock music and isn't afraid of fist fights but he’s actually soft and romantic, and makes fun of sappy things like that ride but also gives into them. He sits close to Cas and puts an arm around his shoulders, whispering jokes in his ear about what a silly situation they’re in but he’s actually enjoying it.

They ride the Wave Swinger twice because it’s both Castiel and Garth’s favourite. Castiel opens his arms, closes his eyes and smiles widely, feeling like he can fly. He’s as happy as he’s ever been, heart full of love for Dean and hope for the future. Life isn’t perfect but it’s pretty damn great at the time nonetheless.

Then they go into the Loop-o-plane which Dean _hates_ and refuses to go into a second time even if everybody else does. That’s the last fast ride they take before making a break to eat something. They all order different things and get together to eat, finding a little spot on a side to stand around, discussing what ride they should try next. Benny and Dean decide to have a little competition and head to the nearest shooting game where Dean utterly destroys his friend. Castiel is, as are all their friends, actually really impressed by Dean’s shooting skills; he absolutely never misses and gets his boyfriend the biggest and dumbest bear there is to win. 

“Wow, you’re scary good,” Gilda tells him. “Where did you learn how to shoot like that?”

“My dad taught me. He was in the army for a while. Life on the road can be dangerous so he taught us how to handle ourselves.”

“Even Sam?” Charlie’s surprised to learn, eyebrows shooting up and all.

Dean huffs a laugh as he gives the fake gun back to the carnival worker. “Sam’s even better if not as good as me.”

“You’re full of wonders,” Charlie decides instead of judging Dean’s off upbringing, patting him on the back as she eyes Castiel’s bear with longing.

“Do you want it?” the witch offers. He’s more than glad to get rid of the giant thing.

“Yes!” Charlie beams and snatches it from his hands while at the same time Dean pretends to be offended that he gave his present away.

“Are we going to the funhouse next or what?” Ash proposes and doesn’t wait for an answer before he starts marching towards the attraction. 

The line for that ride is quite long. The group becomes divided for a moment; Dean goes ahead with Charlie, Gilda and Benny. Then Ash, Jo, Pamela and Arthur go next. Garth and Castiel have to wait back in line as they’re sharing a bag of popcorn, but Garth ends up bailing at the last moment because he just cannot wait to go to the bathroom. Castiel considers leaving the queue but then the three people behind him are practically pushing him forwards in their eagerness to go in so he steps into the funhouse without a friend. He lets the strangers pass him and hesitates, looking around for an exit but eventually he decides to just go in. By then the three strangers have moved forwards and left him alone. Their voices still reach him from somewhere inside the makeshift building.

There’s something off about that place from the start. At first he doesn’t pay too much attention to it, he’s distracted by the boxing bags he has to avoid in his way to the mouth of the tiger that connects him to the next room. But when he comes into a narrower and darker room, he feels a shift in the air right away. He feels the stillness, the sudden uncomfortable awareness that there’s nothing else, no one else in there but him… and still, somewhere, he starts to feel a presence.

Cas stops and takes in the view. The walls and ceiling are pitch black, except for some metal arches painted in fluorescent green. Heads of animals also painted in fluorescent colours rest on the shoulders of black mannequins. They’re perfectly still, just stupid plastic heads, but they stay make the witch stop and consider them. He walks past them slowly, moving his head from one side to the other to watch them as if he were expecting them to move. 

Next is the spinning tunnel. Castiel doesn’t think much of it at first. It takes him a second to get the hang of it. The tunnel is not more than a few steps long but with every step he takes, he can’t help but feel the tunnel speeds up its rotation. When he finally jumps off it and gets to the other side, he gets the feeling he’s being watched as a shiver runs down his spine. Against everything instinct, he turns to watch over his shoulder and finds the head of one of the animals has turned around in his direction. Castiel sets his jaw and almost defiantly lifts his hand and forces the plastic head to turn away from him again into its original position.

His initial thought is the witch; she must be playing with him. Before moving into the next part where he has to avoid mechanical moving parts, he allows himself a moment to gather his thoughts and focus his mind to find the source of magic that’s trying to scare him. He wants to sever their connection and stop whatever game she’s playing, but he doesn’t find a witch’s presence there with him. The one he feels is much broader than that of a single witch though and it is incredibly dark. Alone in there with it, Castiel genuinely begins to worry for the first time in a long time.

In the following room, the mechanical parts hanging from the ceiling swing from side to side at a pace that makes them easy to avoid, even for a child it’s a game they cannot lose. The moment he steps into their range though, the parts start moving as if they had a mind of their own, breaking out of their rhythmic pattern to hit him when he doesn’t expect it. They swing rapidly and violently, chasing him. The metal covered in thick foam pushes him against the wall, knocking him out of his feet. Cas quickly jumps to his feet and barely avoids the next moving part only to be hit by the third twice. That one actually hits him in his lower ribs, leaving him momentarily breathless. 

The thing is attacking him. It’s coming for him another time but he puts his hands up and stops it just in time. Cas actually struggles against the force that’s moving the metal body towards him, it’s something really powerful. There’s a mechanical sound of something breaking, the gears failing under the push of the two forces, the one that wants to move it against the young boy and the one that’s trying to stop it.

Cas kneels on the floor first, then slowly stands up. His arm shakes with the strength of trying to hold the coming part still, he thinks he’ll probably pull a muscle if he has to keep it up for much longer. He inhales sharply and lifts the other arm, pointing it to the next moving mechanical part, anticipating that it will also try to hit him. Slowly, keeping his concentration focused on his magic at all times, he walks past the two and the following one as well without any hits.

The next narrow room has a moving platform. Castiel doesn’t even get on it without making sure to hold it still first with his powers. The moment he steps on it he feels something else trying to counter his magic. The platform shakes under his feet but it cannot move enough to actually bother him.

“You’re strong,” he growls under his breath, “but I’m stronger.”

He gets to the end without any major issue and mutters a curse under his breath when he realizes the next bit of the funhouse is a mirror maze where the lights flicker creating a rather macabre atmosphere. His patience is wearing thin and he’s eager to get the hell out of that place. Not just because he’s had enough of whatever this is, but because he wants to make sure his friends, wherever they are, are safe from this dark force.

Castiel advances through the maze as best he can, however he all but hits his face against the mirrors once or twice. Feeling the presence gaining in on him, following him, he tries to pick up his pace but the mirrors betray him and where it seems he was going the right way, suddenly he’s planting his face against a surface that he could have sworn wasn’t there.

The more this presence screws with him, the more he gets that itch inside of him that is a telltale sign that he is close to losing his cool but he makes an effort to keep his emotions in check considering this place is too public to risk losing control and having his powers get loose. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone and he’s not going to let this presence get to him and force his hand.

Fuming, he bangs his fist on the mirror in front of him to make sure it’s really there. His knuckles feel the punch and a small crack appears in the mirror. In the broken mirror, standing behind him, he sees his own reflection but there’s something wrong with it and the angle for it all; it appears to be so much further away and directly turned towards him instead of a reflection of his back as it should be, and the posture of his copy is tense and his eyes almost completely black and devoid of anything—life, emotions, purpose. Those eyes just stare at him, watch him. The arms, instead of raised up against the glass wall, are hanging on the sides.

With reckless fearlessness Castiel turns to face his double. He’s eager to get this over with. The other doesn’t move.

Proudly, hoping that it’ll be enough to discourage this dark presence, he declares, “I am not afraid of you and it would be best for you not to fight me. I’m a son of Satan and I too walk the night.”

Far from getting intimidated, his double starts to smile. It’s a wide, toothy grin that makes his skin crawl. Whatever that thing is, it takes a step towards him. Cas finds himself taking one step back. Raised by Gabriel, he’s always been brave to the point of cockiness but something about that damn smile and black eyes puts some sense in the form of fear into him; this is not a situation he should take lightly.

As his opponent takes another teasing step in his direction, Castiel’s back meets the mirror behind him. He’s preparing himself for a fight when suddenly something to his left grips his shoulder. He jumps off his kin and turns, heart racing in his throat, to see Dean looking at him with deep worry in his eyes. Perched on his shoulder is Seir. Dean’s eyes fall on the broken mirror behind Castiel, then back on him. 

“Cas, you okay?” he asks.

His gentle touch and concerned tone power up Castiel’s heart once more with courage, if only because he would never let that thing hurt his boyfriend or his familiar. The witch looks back on the direction of the presence he was facing but before his eyes even land on the empty maze of mirrors, he realizes he cannot feel that force in there with them anymore. Concerns grips his heart again; if that thing’s not in there with them, it could be out there with the mortals which is probably worse.

To locate the presence, he closes his eyes and tries to calm his breathing. His heart’s still racing, his mouth is dry. Dean shakes his shoulder, interrupting him.

“Cas, dude, what—”

“Shhh!”

He focuses all his mind, heart, soul and powers into locating that presence and maybe stopping it from harming anybody, but it’s gone, he cannot feel it anywhere close. Just as quickly as it came, it vanished.

“It’s gone,” he tells Dean as he opens his eyes. He’s not sure how he feels about it; he would have liked to figure out what that presence was or why it was there but a part of him is also glad it’s gone, especially now Dean’s there.

“What’s gone? What’s going on?” Dean asks. “Seir just flew right at me, I figured something was wrong so I came looking for you, I snuck through the back. Dude, what did you do to the mirror?”

“I’ll explain later. We should go.”


	24. Chapter 24

Dean asks him if he wants to leave about four times but to his own surprise, Castiel decides he would rather stay. First of all, he figures the presence won’t return as long as he’s in such a public place. Secondly, he prefers to stick around and make sure no funny business happens and, if it does, that he’s there to stop it. Last but not least, he doesn’t want to cause a scene or ruin people’s fun; Dean is Charlie, Benny and Garth’s drive as well as his own, if Dean leaves they all have to because nobody’s going to make Dean drive back and forwards twice. Looking at them having so much fun, Cas doesn’t have the heart to fake some illness and ask to go home (although it wouldn’t really be faking, he’s quite in a lot of pain). He’s complained so much about the carnival already that he’s sure they wouldn’t believe him anyway. 

The hunter cannot have fun anymore though. He’s tense and alert. Even though he tries to pretend everything’s fine in front of their friends, Castiel sees the way his eyes study the crowd and dark corners of the night in search of something evil or something that is out of place. He also finds his little brother and pulls him aside for a moment to ask him to be alert and cautious, to never leave the big crowds and to go straight home afterwards. Castiel wonders if the protection spell that’s cast over their home would be strong enough to protect them from such a powerful, evil force, should it decide to pay the Winchesters a visit. He doesn’t share those concerns with Dean though.

Eventually the group ends up standing outside the fortune teller’s tent. At first Dean, knowing Cas was trying to avoid the witch, tries to distract them and lead them somewhere else, but Charlie, who had already seen her earlier with Gilda, said the witch asked to speak with Castiel. Pamela and Jo, oblivious to the fact that both the fortune teller and Castiel are both witches, make spooky ghost sounds and wonder how she knew his name.

“Want me to go in with you?” Dean asks him.

“You’re supposed to go in alone, dumbass,” Pamela points out although Dean ignores her; he’s anxious and would rather not leave Cas out of his sight again. 

But Castiel plants a hand on his shoulder and declines his offer before going into the tent alone while his friends wait outside.

Rowena is a petite woman with long red hair. She waits for him sitting on a chair behind a small round table. She looks at him with a knowing smirk. Without even trying, she exudes confidence  _ and _ magic, he could even feel it from outside. Her tent is decorated in such a cliché way Castiel is nearly offended by it, what with the candles, the crystal ball and tarot cards, amongst others.

“Is this what being a witch looks like these days?” he asks rather rudely as he studies the little tent with all its silly decorations.

“Not that you would know, you’ve never been to Hell and seen it for yourself, have you?” she asks in a contained but equally as belligerent tone. She’s not insulted though, her response only serves the purpose of showing Castiel she’s not intimidated by him and the rumours that can be heard about the extent of his powers.

“No, I have not, but that’s been through no fault of my own,” Castiel defends himself.

She clicks her tongue and raises an eyebrow in response. With shameless audacity, she says, “isn’t it, though?”

This really does touch a nerve with Castiel. The fire of the candles dances with a wave of wind caused by him, the flames threatening to die out, and he narrows his eyes at her. She laughs though and waves her hand in a dismissing manner, then gestures towards the chair opposite from hers.

“I’m not here to fight you, Castiel.  _ You _ started it.”

Cas doesn’t sit down. 

“What do you want? Did you send that thing after me?”

“What thing?”

“That  _ thing _ , in the funhouse. Don’t tell me you didn’t feel that.”

“Feel what exactly?”

His patience wearing thinner by the second, Castiel lets out a low growl and curls his hands into fists. The flames of the candles grow in size in a telltale sign that he’s angry and impatient. 

“I really don’t know why you’re referring to, dear,” Rowena assures him, this time being more serious and less teasing so that he’ll believe her, then gestures towards the chair once again, “but if you sit down I could help you figure it out.”

He regards her for a moment and decides to believe her. After all, she had reached out to Gabriel and Dean for permission to pass through town, it wouldn't make sense for her to antagonize him by sending something after him. This only serves to worry him even further though because only a very powerful being could hide so easily from a witch like Rowena, who is known for being someone you don’t want to mess with. He realizes now Seir was not alerted by the presence so much as he felt Castiel being in danger. Otherwise, if Gabriel’s familiar would have felt the presence, it too would have come to his aid or warned its master about the situation but since they don’t share that connection, it couldn't have known Cas needed help. 

Finally, curiosity getting the best of him, Cas sits down on the chair. He folds his arms over his chest though, giving out an air of skepticism that Rowena finds almost funny coming from a witch. She shuffles the deck of cards with a sly smile before laying them down on the table once again. Cas can sense the magic in the cards which originates from her. Even if he doesn’t like her, he has to admit she has an impressive aura.

“Ready?” she asks in an intentionally ominous way, wiggling her eyebrows. Castiel simply rolls his eyes.

He knows there’s a whole art behind reading cards and he doesn’t mean to underestimate their powers, however he doesn’t trust Rowena to give him trustworthy information or help him unravel any sorts of mysteries. However, when she picks up the first card and lays it in front of him, Castiel’s cool and cold posture becomes undone. His arms fall to the sides and he clenches his jaw as he looks at the first card she drew: the devil. After all the nightmares he had during the summer and considering what had just happened to him in the funhouse, he can’t help but be somewhat alarmed.

He clenches his jaw and swallows hard, then meets her eyes again, looking there for something that tells him she’s just toying with him but Rowena’s face is serious and focused.

“How very fitting,” he comments, trying to come off as nonchalantly as possible.

Rowena sees right through his facade, he knows she does, but she says nothing to him about it. If anything, her suddenly more serious expression also works to unnerve him further.

When she picks up the next card and he sees it, he becomes agitated and jumps to his feet, the flames of the candles erupting upwards almost as high as the tent’s ceiling.

“ _ Death? _ Did you do that on purpose? Are you threatening me?” he exclaims while he swings the back of his hand over the table, throwing some of its contents, including the cards, into the floor.

“I am not!” Rowena objects, tone severe and lacking her normal playfulness. “I am here to help you.”

“Help me?” he spats, laughing at her. “You think delivering an omen of death is going to help me, somehow?”

“The card can have many meanings,” she explains. She gets up, keeping an eye of him while she picks up the things he threw off the table. He realizes she’s being cautious, that even a witch like her takes his powers seriously and while she is not afraid of him, she  _ is _ careful and prudent enough not to antagonize him. “It can mean more than literal death. It can symbolize an ending as well. A great challenge and even greater change are coming for you, Castiel.”

Castiel throws his arms out, utterly done with the cryptic ways of the supernatural world for that day.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Rowena huffs and rolls her eyes, mutters some sort of complaint about  _ boys  _ and  _ amateurs _ and Castiel being rude. She drops all her things back on the table and crosses the space between them, lowering her voice and speaking quickly, as if she were afraid someone else could hear them over the impossibly loud crowd of the carnival.

“Look, I am here because I owe your mother a debt—”

“You sent  _ ghosts _ after my mother! Don’t pretend you were her friend.”

“Yes, I did, dear, and then your father was so angry, not even I could stop his righteous vengeance. Your mother took mercy on me and asked him to let it all go if I promised to leave town and never come back—hence why I had to ask permission to return. Obviously I took her offer, I am not stupid. I didn’t even like your father that much, I just didn’t think he should give up his life for a mortal.”

“Hey!”

Castiel is at the edge of the precipice, ready to lose his cool.

Rowena shrugs unapologetically and continues talking ike Cas is not about to smite her. “I’m just saying…As you may realize, I’ve owed your mother a great debt all these years, which doesn’t sit well with me at all. Owing a mortal, how  _ embarrassing _ ! With her gone, I cannot repay her  _ but _ I figured giving her son a little warning is as close as I’ll get.”

“What warning?”

“You’d better not tell anyone I told you, but there are whispers in Hell, talk of revolution and uprisings. Dark forces are gathering.”

“So? There’s always some war going on down there, one lord betraying another. It’s Hell, it’s the demons’ nature.”

“But lately  _ your _ name has been whispered a lot. They’re coming  _ here _ , Castiel, to be led by you or destroy you but either way ultimately conquer the mortal world. Now get out of here and tell your boyfriend to come in, I have something for him too.”

“Wait, no, you have to tell me more.”

“Well, luckily for me I don’t know much else to tell and anyway, I don’t like to meddle in grand schemes like the apocalypse and such. It’s way above my paygrade and hobbies.”

Rowena winks at him, recovering her playfulness, and gently pats his cheek before walking away and regaining her seat behind the table.

“Don’t you care about what happens to this world, to these people? I thought you had a home here, that you liked this world.”

“Well, the food and the sense of fashion are certainly superior than in Hell,” she jokes lightly, “but I wouldn’t risk my neck for mortal affairs, not even to save my beloved Louis Vuitton collection. You can try to convince me all you want but you won’t succeed so just go ahead and spin inside a giant cup of tea or whatever it is you mortals do is these godawful loud events,” she dismisses him as she prepares for the next card reading.

Castiel wants to protest, even to try and force more information out of her because he’s sure she knows more than she lets on, but he knows it wouldn’t be wise, not with the amount of mortals there are around. He doesn’t want to risk the crowd’s safety or outing himself as anything but a normally weird human boy and that one kid in town who has a boyfriend. He draws too much attention to himself already. Not without throwing one last disapproving glance in her direction, he walks out of the tent, aggressively pushing aside the curtains as he rejoins his friends outside. 

“Wow, Cas, did that not go well?” Ash asks him, surprised to see him so aggravated. 

Jo leans in with all the intentions of teasing him a little, elbowing him in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Did you get something as bad as I did? I asked her if I’d get into the college I wanted, she said I don’t even stand a chance in my first  _ five _ options.”

“I got the devil and death,” Castiel snaps in a tone that conveys too much irritation and for which he automatically feels guilty about. All his friends fall into a tense silence, even Arthur who would usually laugh at these things.

“Well, that’s pretty straight forward…” Garth mutters in a grim tone.

“I’m sorry, Jo, I didn’t mean to be rude to you,” Castiel quickly apologizes, adding  _ awkward _ and  _ guilty _ to the crazy mix of emotions he’s accumulating by the minute.

Thankfully, she smiles at him like she’s already let it slip and runs a hand down his arm in a friendly manner before saying, “it’s okay, Cas. It’s just a stupid game though, you know? Don’t worry about it.”

“Also the death card doesn’t  _ just  _ mean death, it can symbolize changes or new beginnings,” Pamela points out, just like Rowena did. Knowing his luck and his family history though, Castiel doesn’t find that comforting.

“So I’ve been told,” Castiel sighs. Why can’t there just be a separate card for that? It would be much less ominous. “Dean, you’re up next, she called for you.”

All eyes turn to his boyfriend now, who looks completely taken aback. He hadn’t been planning on going in.

“Me?” he asks, pointing at himself. “Why me? Man, I don’t wanna go, half of you got terrible readings and I’ve been doing so well! If shit’s going down, I prefer to be surprised.”

Castiel, lacking any patience at his points, all but drags him into the tent. “Please, Dean. Humour me.” Then, leaning into his ear so only Dean can hear him, he adds, “and try to dig out any information you can from her. She knows something.”

Dean gives him a pleading look over his shoulder, pouting and all, but Cas gives him one final push and closes the curtains behind him. Cas doesn’t like to use Dean like this but he still hopes that his boyfriend will be able to coax more information out of the witch through his both charming and irritating personality and winning smile. However, when he comes out of the tent faster than Cas would have hoped for, Dean looks nothing but thoroughly puzzled, confusion creasing the space between his brows while he scratches the back of his neck absentmindedly.

Pamela, the one standing closer to the tent, snaps the back of her hand against his chest to catch his attention and asks, “so, what happened?” 

Dean shrugs for five seconds straight until he declares, “I’ve no idea.”

“What cards did you get?”

“The sun and the moon.”

“And she didn’t explain what it meant?” Benny asks his friend.

“Sort of…?” Dean trails off, shrugging again. Seeing the annoyance in Castiel’s face, he quickly continues, “she said they’re opposing cards—”

“ _ Obviously, _ ” Jo says, and Dean doesn’t stop talking but he does elbow her in the ribs.

“—so at first I thought, okay, maybe she’s talking about me and Cas because, yeah, I mean—” Dean stops abruptly and just vaguely gestures between the two boys. 

Even if their friends don’t know that one of them is a hunter and the other a witch, everyone gets what Dean means right away. One of them is this captivating and seductive force of nature, a magnet for trouble and the life of the party while the other sometimes resemblances a wallflower, a passive beauty, or a tamed house cat who would be too happy to just spend their days with their nose buried in books. Castiel is the calm and quiet before the storm; Dean is the loud thunders, the dramatic rain. Cas knows that and he’s fine with it, being different is partly why they work so well together and they’re into each other. They complement each other and Castiel loves every side of Dean that’s unlike him, every different point of view, every new way of doing things. 

Charlie nods for Dean to go on, “yup, we know what you mean. So...?”

“But she said it wasn’t about us. She said there could be a conflict. One wants to reveal a secret, the other wants to preserve mystery. Observation versus intuition. Revelation versus illusion. Something about a confusion of ideas. Something that’s not what it seems to be. And I’m literally quoting her, guys, I’m not trying to be deep here, I just need to get it out before I forget what she said cause I know Cas and Charlie will remember for me. I just—I’ve  _ no _ idea what she’s talking about.”

Castiel wants to make sense of Dean’s reading but he also struggles to get to the bottom of it. He wonders if perhaps it could be related to his mother and their search for a way to free her. Is he missing something, is there maybe a simpler way to save her, or is he just coming up with random sources of hope at this point? They’ve made no progress, none at all, since they joined forces and started digging through the Men of Letters’ archives which are, to put it lightly,  _ extensive. _ Not to mention there’s more of it out there, in other bunkers, and while Cas did not have access to them before, Dean does have the right to request that information from other members of the secret society. 

He discourages this idea that the reading was about him and his mother quickly though, before it could really morph into hope and daydreams. This was  _ Dean’s _ reading, after all, it should be more about him than about Castiel or his family. Whatever the mystery is behind the meaning of the cards, it is Dean’s task to figure it out which makes Castiel wonder if it could be related to the Men of Letters or if it refers to some trivial mortal matter. Judging by the way Rowena called for Dean specifically, he doubts it’s the latter.

“Well, we’ve got ourselves a mystery,” Ash chuckles lightheartedly while instead Castiel thinks  _ oh, great, another mystery... _

Benny is the last one to get his reading done and he too seems rather unhappy by the result. When he comes out of the tent, he is lost in thought, pensive, and doesn’t share much on the results. It seems quite obvious that Rowena has told him something that has resonated with him and that he doesn’t quite want to share at the moment, so nobody pushes the subject and they move onto the next attraction.

They don’t stay much longer though. Castiel’s pain grows stronger by the minute, the mechanical parts that attacked him in the funhouse delivered blows that were more serious than he’d realized in the moment and every ride that shakes him in the slightest (which are almost all  _ if _ not all of them) has him hugging his abdomen and twisting in pain. Dean and Benny are both hung up on their readings, the only ones that apparently turned out to be not exactly disappointing but also not fun. Charlie’s right boot somehow gets water inside it and her foot begins to freeze and finally Garth, the sweetheart that he is, has no problem leaving earlier than expected when he realizes the rest would prefer to head back. They say goodbye to the rest of their friends, Dean looks for Sammy in the crowd one more time to let him know he’s leaving and then the quintet finds their way back to the car. 

The ride is mostly uneventful. Dean holds Castiel’s hand all the way and though he participates in a conversation with Charlie and Garth, he also throws quick worried glances in his boyfriend’s direction now and then. Cas can almost feel him itching to ask more questions about what happened earlier and he too can’t wait to get home and talk about it, especially with his brother and his father. 

Benny is uncharacteristically quiet. Castiel notices and studies him through the side mirror. His friend stared out the window the whole time, not paying attention at all to what his friends are saying. Cas can’t help but wonder what Rowena said to him. Nothing too bad, he hopes. A curious side of him would like to mutter a spell that would allow him to read into Benny’s thoughts but he promised himself a long time ago he would never do that to his friends.

For better or for worse, Castiel doesn’t have to wonder for too long what it is that’s bothering Benny. 

Garth is sitting on the back of the car between Charlie and Benny. Dean pulls over right in front of his place and Garth says his goodnight to everybody, then turns to Benny, expecting him to get out and let him out, yet Benny doesn’t move.

“Can we talk for a minute?” he suddenly asks, as if the others had not, in fact, been talking the entire way there.

There’s a brief pause in which each of his friends instantly picks up in his tone, which isn't exactly worried but there’s an edge of vulnerability tangled with a tiny bit of irritation in it that they weren’t expecting.

Dean takes the lead. “Sure, Benny. What’s on your mind?” 

Castiel turns around in his seat to better look at his friends sitting on the back. Benny is staring at his hands with this slightly embarrassed expression on his face but also sporting a stubborn frown.

“There’s something she said—the fortuneteller. It’s bothering me.”

“What a mood,” Dean agrees and huffs a laugh but Benny doesn’t smile back.

“Is it about your card reading?” Garth asks more seriously.

Benny nods. He exhales long and hard, as if it pains him to be talking about it. Castiel knows him to be a no-nonsense type of guy so he’s probably not loving the way Rowena got into his head. But she did, with most of them.

“I got the fool. And she said…” Benny sighs and looks up, his eyes scanning the faces of all of his friends, landing on Castiel last. Benny looks extremely uncomfortable, like there’s nothing he wants less than to speak his mind but he takes a deep breath in and finally shares his thoughts with his friends.

“She says there’s something right under my nose that I don’t know, something that others do know. And you know me, guys, I wouldn’t normally pay attention to shit like that, I ain’t superstitious. I don’t even know why I went in. But, honestly, she voiced something that I’ve felt for a long time. I  _ do  _ feel like a fool. There’s just… You guys are hiding something. I can tell, I’m not stupid. I don’t know if  _ all _ of you know the same thing but you’ve all acted weird this year, at some point or another. Especially you two,” he gestures towards Dean and Castiel, “and I just think it’s a damn shame because there’s nothing I wouldn’t tell you and there’s nothing,  _ nothing _ I wouldn't do for you.”

By the time Benny’s finished his heartfelt speech, the tension on the car has grown astronomically, it could be cut with a knife. Charlie’s pointedly keeping her eyes anywhere but in Benny’s direction, doing a terrible job at hiding any sign of guilt from her usually cheerful face. Garth looks taken aback and is dead silent but he’s unconsciously touching the cut in his face with the tip of his fingers. On the other hand Dean is looking at Castiel, screaming at him telepathically, panicking. He’s soft and has grown terribly close to Benny. They’ve actually discussed the subject before, how much Dean hates to keep the whole matter of the Men of Letters secret from him, but Castiel continues to think to this day that ignorance is bliss, that it’s safer for his friends not to know about the supernatural. Dean cannot tell his secret without outing Castiel’s so he agreed to keep his mouth shut about it. But now that Benny is calling them out on having a secret, Dean is practically begging Castiel with his eyes to let the truth come out. Under the spotlight, Castiel is truly considering it but he struggles with the idea of putting his friends in harm’s way, especially since he was attacked that very night.

“See?” Benny stresses, once again looking back and forwards between the two boys. “I can literally see it in your faces. Dean, you’re dying to tell, brother.”

“Benny, it’s nothing,” Dean lies and bites his lower lip, turning a little on his seat to grab the steering wheel, hands closing around it like his life depends on it. It kills him to lie and it pains Castiel to know it’s his fault.

Benny rolls his eyes and throws his arms out as best he can in the small place they’re in.

“Seriously?  _ That’s  _ your answer?” he fumes. He shakes his head and notices Charlie is biting her nails. “And you? What’s up with you?”

When the attention lands on her she shrinks and gives Benny this pleading look to leave her out of the discussion. Castiel can see she also wants nothing but to tell him the whole truth but it’s not her secret to tell.

“I can’t,” she responds in a tiny voice.

“What the hell, man? Do you guys  _ not _ trust me?”

The hurt in his voice makes Castiel break and say something he knows will not decrease but fuel Benny’s suspicions.

“It’s not that, we’re just trying to protect you.”

“Protect me?” his friend echoes, frowning at him in confusion. “Protect me from what?”

Nobody responds. Benny’s eyes do a round around them all before again landing on Castiel. 

“Oh, God,” he suddenly says, his face dropping and the blood draining from his cheeks, “is my dad cheating on my mom?”

“ _ What _ ?” Dean goes, snapping his head around. He almost laughs; if only their problems were that normal.

The obvious surprise in Dean’s face works to calm Benny who sighs in relief. “Oh, cool, so it’s not that… Then what is it? What can  _ Charlie _ know that I can’t? No offence.”

“Offence taken,” she declares even though she knows very well that in the supernatural world, a strong dude like Benny would probably be safer than her. 

“Guys, whatever it is, I  _ swear _ I’m not going to tell anybody! Cas…” Benny looks at him long and hard, chest heaving. There’s no more frustration or irritation in his eyes, just pure  _ hurt _ at the thought of not being worthy of his friends’ secrets. Castiel feels his resolve crumbling rapidly. “Cas, come on, man. You can trust me.”

“I’m a hunter!” Dean finally caves in, turning around to meet Castiel’s gaze. His shoulders are hunched forwards with the weight of the guilt. He rests his forehead against the steering wheel in defeat and repeats, “Benny, man, I’m a hunter. My grandparents had this secret society and they haunted supernatural shit and, well, I’m one of them now.”

Benny, completely dumbstruck, stares at Dean with an utterly confused expression on his face. He’s frowning, mouth hanging open.

To spare Dean from having to give a long and convincing enough experience, Castiel finally comes forwards as well.

He sighs and says, “and I’m a witch.”

And then, completely out of the blue, Garth also confesses, “guys, I’m a werewolf.”

“ _ What _ ?” Charlie, Castiel and Dean exclaim at the same time, the trio exchanging questioning looks with each other to gauge if any of the others knew.

“You guys suck,” Benny mutters angrily and moves to open the door to leave, but Castiel forces it closed right away with a simple movement of his hand. Benny jumps, taken aback by the sudden, invisible force that stopped him from leaving.

Cas lifts an eyebrow and, bragging but a little, comments, “there’s more where that came from.”

“It’s true!” Charlie assures him, reaching over Garth’s shoulders to squeeze Benny’s arm. “Dude, they’re not joking. Dean’s a hunter, Castiel is a witch, and well, I guess Garth’s a werewolf.”

“Since when?” Castiel asks, his attention shifting to Garth once again.

“Happened on my birthday, I turned. My parents said the first time is hard but then it becomes easy. Oh, yeah, my parents are werewolves too,” he clarifies when his friends do nothing but stare back at him in awe, mouths hanging open and all. “It’s a curse, runs in the family. They hid it from me hoping it’d skip my generation but it didn’t. It actually explains so much about my parents, like how my dad is so fit but hasn’t been to a gym a single day in his life. I never questioned that before.”

“Garth,” Charlie starts softly, putting an arm around his shoulders, “I’m… sorry? Or… are you cool with it?”

Garth, who hasn’t still fully made his mind about it, simply shrugs, wrinkling his nose as he thinks. “I’m adjusting. I have to eat animal hearts during the full moons to keep violent impulses under control but at least now I have super strength and enhanced senses.”

Dean can’t help but snort at the comical way Charlie is staring back at Garth in silence, eyes wide like the mood, while she processes his answer. She looks horrified and equally fascinated.

“And you?” Benny asks Charlie, eyeing her like he’s trying to figure out what her deal is.

“What about me?”

“Are you a hunter or a witch or…”

“I’m just fabulous,” she jokes and laughs at her own wit, but then she repeats more seriously, “no, but, seriously, I’m just me. I was with Dean when he found out about the secret society, it was sort of a coincidence. It’s a bit of a long story.”

“One that I am eager to tell you,” Castiel promises Benny as he hugs his middle for dear life, “but can we do it tomorrow? I’d really like to head home.”

“Are you okay, Cas?” Dean asks him, shifting closer to Cas like the worried, overprotective boyfriend Cas loves.

Castiel nods but, truth be told, he’s in pain. The more he waits before doing something about it, the worse it gets.

“Did something happen to you?” Charlie asks as she finally notices the awkward way Cas is sitting in and the slight discomfort in his face.

“I’m fine, I just had a minor run in with— _ something _ … in that stupid funhouse,” he mutters under his breath, forever regretting the moment he went in that ride alone.

“A spirit attacked him,” Dean explains for the others when Castiel fails to tell the whole truth as he once more tries to spare the rest from the worrisome world of the supernatural. Castiel gives him a look of annoyance but Dean rolls his eyes and tells him, “dude, the cat’s out of the bag. Stop trying to protect us. It seems  _ you’re  _ the one that’s in danger. There’s strength in unity.”

“That’s it,” Benny suddenly smiles, “that’s what she said, the fortuneteller.”

“Rowena,” Cas corrects him. “And she’s a witch, a very powerful one.”

“She said precisely that, there’s strength in unity. I think she wanted us all to be on the same page.”

“Why though?” Charlie asks. She’s suddenly worried, putting things together faster than the rest. 

“Something’s coming,” the witch responds, tone serious. His hand finds Dean’s out of instinct, for comfort, for strength.

“That’s what I was afraid you were going to say,” Charlie mumbles as she rests back on her seat, going back to biting her nails.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Dean comforts her, turning around and squeezes her knee. “There’s nothing the Queen of Moondoor, a werewolf, a witch, a hunter and a… a great fisherman...?... can’t do.”

“Great save, brother,” Benny deadpans.

Castiel then proposes, “we’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay? We can meet at the library at 3 pm and discuss everything. Agreed?”

Everyone nods and much to Castiel’s pleasure, Benny finally gets out to let Garth out of the car and they’re once more on their way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gifs:  
> Rowena: sasquatchandleatherjacket  
> The devil's card: xesoteric-extraterrestrialx


	25. Chapter 25

Gabriel is not home yet which annoys Castiel in astronomical proportions. In all fairness, it’s really not late at all, they’ve returned from the carnival much earlier than expected. It’s a Friday night, after all, the gang should still be out there having fun, most likely than not hanging out at someone’s place after they were done with the fair. Gabe is still out with Kali and will probably not return until much later, if at all; those two love birds keep each other up all night, much to Cas’ horror. Castiel would call him but then _someone_ should have a peaceful night, if not him, so he decides to wait for the next day before talking to his brother.

Dean insists on staying with him. Cas is of two minds about it; on the one hand he would rather be alone and go to sleep instead of having to deal with any more sexual tension between them, but (and stubborn as he is he hates to admit it) he does find it comforting to have someone else there with him after getting attacked by whatever that thing at the funhouse was. He’s not _afraid_ per se, Novaks don’t get scared easily, but he is righteously concerned. There’s something out there that’s out to get him, something that only went away because it got interrupted. That _and_ Rowena’s foreboding card reading from Hell. Shit’s about to hit the fan and if that spirit returns for him, he would rather not be alone quite yet, not while he feels he’s about to cough his ribs out.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?” Dean asks him as Cas drags his feet up the stairs, Seir perched up on his shoulder and his grandmother’s spirit shadowing him with a worried frown. 

Castiel appreciates their attention but the three of them are smothering him.

“I’m fine…”

“What if you have a broken rib?”

“I’ll repair it.”

Dean frowns at him, practically breathing down his boyfriend’s neck as he does. “That’s not funny,” he scolds Cas.

“I wasn’t kidding,” he replies as he turns to give Dean a dead serious look over his shoulder.

In response, Dean does a sort of disgusted, horrified expression that Cas knows deep down is a little funny and cute but right now, what with the pain pulsing in his abdomen, he doesn’t have time to dwell on it.

As he walks down the hallway towards his room, the trio still shadowing him like he’s made of glass and about to fall and shatter, he starts unbuttoning his shirt and taking it off, slowly. The lights turn themselves on one by one as he advances, the door to his bedroom opens to invite him in. Dean’s seen it happen so many times by now, it doesn’t faze or surprise him anymore; the house is alive, it’s just one of those things you’ve got to accept when you become close to the Novaks. 

Cas lets the shirt slip down his shoulders and arms and fall to the ground. As soon as his skin is out in the open, Dean sucks in a breath when his eyes first land in a long bruise on Castiel’s shoulder. That’s the side that hit the wall when the first mechanical part hit him. When Dean’s eyes land on the quickly growing dark spots on his boyfriend’s stomach, he’s speechless. His hands reach out to touch, to comfort, but Castiel quickly grabs his wrists to stop him.

“Don’t.”

“Cas, that looks bad, man,” Dean whispers, eyes locked on the injuries.

“Do me a favor. Go to the kitchen, ask for the healing grace—the house will show you where it is—and bring it to me, okay?”

Dean obeys at once and all but runs downstairs to bring Cas what he needs. With him gone, the witch knows he only has a moment to do what he knows he must do but doesn’t want Dean there to see it. He holds his fists in front of him and, with his eyes closed, he tries to envision as realistically as possible that he’s holding his own broken rib on his hands. Anticipating the paint that is to come, he takes a deep breath (or as deep as he can manage without cringing in pain) and after saying a few whispered latin words, he rapidly moves his hands so that they’re in front of him one next to the other as if he’d forced the rib to become straight into one piece again. Inside of him he can feel something moving and a deep groan of pain erupts from him. His knees buckle and he leans a hand against the wall to steady himself. White stars cloud his vision, momentarily all he can think about is blinding pain shooting through him. He never wants to have to use that spell again.

“Darling, are you okay?” his grandmother asks him, reaching to touch him. He feels nothing when her fingers ghost along his arm.

All he can do is clench his teeth and nod, chest heaving.

“Does it hurt a lot?” Dean asks when he comes in and sees him balancing himself against the wall. 

“I’m f—”

“Fine, yeah, I know, I’ve heard,” Dean mutters, rolling his eyes at him. He takes the hand leaning against the wall and guides Cas towards the bed. The witch doesn’t need help walking but he lets Dean take care of him, knowing that the other likes to. Taking care of people is a part of his personality and one of the things Cas loves about him.

Cas sits down on the mattress, trying not to groan when he does to keep Dean from worrying even more. Dean kneels on the floor in front of him and plants a hand on his thigh. Looking down at Dean, Cas all but squirms a little. Instead of letting his mind go straight to the gutter, he reminds himself of the pain to keep him focused. It certainly does not help the way Dean momentarily ogles Castiel’s chest and naked shoulders.

“You’re growing handsome, Mr Novak,” Dean teases him in an attempt to lighten the mood and distract Cas from his misfortune. “Hadn’t seen you without your shirt for a while.”

 _That was by design,_ the witch thinks but keeps the thought to himself.

“I’ve been working out,” he responds rather quietly, loving _and_ hating Dean’s attention at the moment.

“Yeah, I can tell,” Dean mumbles before he bites his lower lip.

“Dean, the cream?” 

“Oh, right.”

Dean opens the little container he is holding. To the human eye, it looks perfectly ordinary, with a hint of mint coming from it, but Cas knows it’s a powerful healing ointment Gabriel always keeps around. It treats inflammations, mostly. With two fingers, Dean scoops out some of it and starts, super carefully, spreading it over all the marks on Castiel’s skin. The ointment is cold to the touch, Cas tries not to squirm away and stays still. Dean is methodical and gentle, ensuring not to put any pressure over the wounds. His fingers brush against Castiel’s skin and despite the pain, it makes him shiver and wish they could do a lot more touching. 

One of the light bulbs explotes, making Dean jump and turn in the direction of the noise. Castiel, who _feels_ the electric charge in the air, had sort of seen it coming.

“Was that you?” Dean asks while continuing to spread the cream.

“Yes, sorry.”

“‘S okay. What was that about?”

Castiel shrugs and averts his eyes. He notices they’re alone again. “Nothing of import.”

Dean cleans his fingers and plants his hands on Castiel’s thighs again, squeezing a little to grab his attention.

“Come on, Cas, you can tell me.”

“It’s just been a long day, there’s a lot to process,” Castiel _partially_ lies.

“You’re worried.”

“Aren’t you?” Cas counters.

“Not that much,” Dean responds with a confident grin. Castiel raises an eyebrow, skeptic to Dean’s cockiness, but Dean tells him, “whatever is coming we will handle it, together.”

Dean’s words bring out a smile on Castiel but it’s strained, a mountain of things, of conspiracy theories and threats, encouraging his anxiety to grow exponentially. He kicks his shoes off and moves slowly up the bed until he lays down. Fuck his jeans, he doesn’t have the energy to take those off. He takes a long, deep breath out and closes his eyes. The power of the healing cream relaxes him a bit but the pain is still very much there and it will be for at least a few hours.

The mattress shuffles next to him when Dean lays down next to him. With a lazy movement of his hands, the lights go off.

“We’re going to bed?” Dean whispers in the dark. He sounds surprised, so Cas opens his eyes but all he can see is his boyfriend’s silhouette next to him.

“Well, yes… Aren’t we?”

Even if Cas can’t see his face, he can _feel_ Dean thinking. _Over_ thinking, to be specific.

Without responding, as he lays on his side, Dean blindly feels for Castiel’s face and cups his cheek to then lean in and kiss him. It starts out slow, almost hesitant but as the seconds pass by Dean shuffles closer and closer and his kisses turn more meaningful and charged with passion. The moment Dean’s hand leaves Castiel’s face and begins to travel downwards, Castiel stops everything they’re doing.

“Dean, don’t,” he tells him in a soft but firm voice. “I know what you’re doing.”

There’s a brief pause. Castiel wonders what Dean’s thinking, if he’s offended by the rejection. He really hopes not, the last thing he wants is to argue with Dean.

Dean’s confused voice asks in the dark, “I’m… making out with you?”

“You’re... making advancements.”

Dean snorts at Castiel’s choice of words. “Yes, because that’s what boyfriends do.”

Without beating around the bush, Cas tells it like it is. “You’re doing it because you think I’m upset and it’ll make me feel better. But you don’t have to. And I don’t want to do it like that either.”

When Dean pulls back, Castiel is sure he’s offended. Dean rests his weight on his forearms, completely silent for a few seconds. Cas doesn't second-guess his decision though, he knows it was the right thing to do. He waits patiently, giving Dean time to catch up with himself and what he’s doing and why,, instead of running on autopilot only to regret his impulsive decisions later, like he used to do.

Eventually, he whispers, “Cas, come on, man, I know you want to and I’ve… been holding back… for some reason...”

The playfulness is now gone. Castiel instantly knows Dean’s painfully aware that Cas has been thinking about this whole situation too and that he probably fears his boyfriend’s patience will run out at some point. It’s precisely that which reinforces the witch’s belief that he made the right call, that Dean needs to be stopped when his mind is his own worst enemy, when he pressures himself to be or do what he thinks others want of him.

“Of course I want to, but like I said, not like this. Not because you think you have to or because you think it’ll make me feel better. When it happens—whatever and whenever you want _it_ to be, it’ll be simply because it’s the right time and nothing else. And as much as I would love to do just about anything with you, Dean, I’ve just pulled one of my ribs back into place, I’m really not in the mood.”

“I _told_ you you had a broken rib,” Dean scolds him severely, huffing in frustration. “Dude, we should have gone to the hospital.”

Castiel rolls his eyes and lays his head back down on the pillow. “Hospitals are for mortals. My family would disown me. I can heal my own ribs, thank you.”

“You are so weird.”

“And you love it.”

“Yeah… yeah, I…”

Dean’s voice trails off awkwardly, like he’s thinking of his next step, his next words, and Castiel holds his breath. His boyfriend has stopped breathing too, it’s dead silent in the house. Castiel’s lips are parted in anticipation as he waits to see if Dean will or won’t say that thing Cas feels but hasn’t said out loud either. He thinks Dean also feels it—they’re soulmates, it would make sense, it wouldn’t be some big surprise—but neither has said it, those three little words that could seal their fate together.

He’s not going to say it, Castiel can feel it in his bones, but the air is charged between them. Dean probably knows Castiel is thinking about it and now the silence has become somewhat awkward.

To spare him and let him know it’s okay not to say it, Castiel yawns like he did not notice the tension and whispers, “shall we go to sleep?”

“Yeah... Good night, Cas.”

“Good night, Dean.”

Dean hugs Castiel’s right arm and leans his head on Castiel’s shoulder. Something tugs at Castiel’s heart, like always, when Dean shows him this sweet side of him that he reserves, for the most part, for his boyfriend. The witch kisses Dean’s forehead before going to sleep. He’s still anxious, a dozen different thoughts running through his head, but with Dean there by his side he does feel a little better.

Mentally exhausted, Castiel falls into a deep sleep at first but finds himself tossing and turning in bed not long after midnight. He’s uncomfortable, the pain on his abdomen doesn’t relent fast enough for him to have a peaceful night. Intermittently he comes in and out of a restless, dreamless sleep. It feels like hours before exhaustion finally overtakes his mind and forces his brain to shut down.

And then the clock hits 3 am on the dot, the witching hour.

Castiel wakes up all of a sudden and even though his eyes are closed, he is all too aware of another presence in his room, one that is not Dean, Seir or his grandmother’s. Not even Gabriel or his familiar. This presence is intense and sinister, just like the one in the funhouse. _Exactly_ like the one in the funhouse, in fact. 

Every fiber in him is alert and ready to fight—not just for himself but for _Dean_ , who still sleeps next to him unaware of the danger at hand. Cas slowly opens his eyes, hoping to get a glimpse of whatever is haunting him before it realizes the witch is awake and probably attacks. He expects to see his double again, that hideous doppelganger that attacked him earlier, but instead he finds a more terrifying figure standing at the foot of his bed, looking down at him. His heart beats furiously on his chest as he lifts himself up on his arms.

When he opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out, Cas has to swallow through the lump of his throat before the words finally come out.

“Satan?”

Something heavy drops in Castiel’s stomach at his own words. No matter the reason for Satan’s visit, it cannot be good, it’s not a social call. Fear finally crawls into his soul when he recognizes that presence as that of the devil’s. He doesn’t know how he knows it, he just does, he can feel it in his bones, can feel his magic reacting to the presence of the one that gave it power in the first place. 

The goat-like, humanoid figure wearing a dark, long cloak nods and once again Castiel finds himself swallowing with difficulty. His deity has a long face with sharp teeth and long, curved horns on the top of his head. Despite the absolute darkness around them, Cas can see every detail of his face just fine.

The Novaks are proud witches and devoted servants but Castiel is not reckless or fanatic enough to be able to say his heart is free of fear at that moment. Again, not just for himself but because a mortal— _a hunter,_ an enemy of the night _—_ is lying next to him sleeping while he’s being unexpectedly visited in the middle of the night by the darkest of all creatures. Cas throws a quick glance in his boyfriend’s direction; Dean’s even breathing doesn’t change at all, he doesn’t shuffle, he’s totally unperturbed by the sound of Castiel's voice or his movements. Seir is nowhere to be found either, which the witch finds odd. Even though Seir is a spirit, a satanic being, he is loyal to Castiel before anyone or anything else, that was King Purson’s gift. As soon as he'd felt the evil presence, he should have run to his master's aid.

“How are you here?”

Castiel’s questions is kind of stupid and _very_ insolent, something born out of impulse that shouldn’t have but still managed to escape his lips as he tries to figure out what the hell is happening. 

In an incredibly deep, monstrous voice that sends shivers running down Castiel's spine, Satan ominously responds, “I’m everywhere, my son.”

The matter-of-fact tone, the way it tries to convey authoritarianism and intimidation should have Cas falling in line and shutting up. He should bow his head, listen and obey...

He doesn’t though, because if he has learned something from satanism is to be bold and defiant, so he continues to be dangerously imprudent as he thinks out loud. “No, you’re bound to Hell.”

He knows this crucial bit of history that is part of his culture, it’s satanism 101; the most powerful of magic, that of none other than God’s, sealed the devil away in Hell for longer than any book can account, to protect the Earth from God’s most violent son. Satan cannot, he just _cannot_ be there and for a moment Castiel finds his courage again in this simple fact. The devil has his ways of _appearing_ to walk the Earth and he can even use some of his magic to perform various acts there, such as something simple like moving mechanical parts in a funhouse and create illusions, but he just _cannot_ be there in that room with them, not really.

“I’m dreaming,” Castiel states more calmly this time although he’s not any less on guard. 

He realizes Satan cannot really hurt Dean, at least not without having to seriously fight Castiel who has the advantage of the strength of his corporeal body. Discreetly but concentrating as much as possible, he gathers all his strength within him and prepares every cell in his being to protect Dean if it comes down to that. Stll, he decides to change his attitude to appear as more cordial and welcoming instead of antagonizing the devil any further. “My apologies, my lord, you startled me. To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

Somewhat pleased with Castiel’s change in disposition, his visitor says, “I come to save your soul, to give you a second chance.”

Castiel supposes the devil is trying to come off as comforting, maybe even loving but all it does is make Castiel’s stomach feel sick.

“Save my soul?” the young witch repeats stupidly, but he knows what he’s talking about. Again, it all comes down to the mortal sleeping next to him.

Satan shifts closer to the bed, a hand with long dark fingers grabbing the metal bed frame at the boys’ feet, and he explains, “you’ve strayed into the light. You’ve ignored my warning like your father before you.” 

Dark eyes land on Dean. Even if it’s for just one second, it feels wrong. Cas wants to throw himself on top of Dean and hide him from sight, from harm’s way. When Satan’s severe gaze turns to Castiel, the witch gladly exchanges places with the hunter.

“I am watching you,” Satan continues, although it sounds more like a threat now, “and I don’t like what I see. You are _my_ son, your magic is _my_ gift. I’ve given you so much, I have such great plans for you but _this_ is what you choose instead?”

A bony hand gestures towards Dean lazily.

“Your greatest gift to us is freedom,” Castiel replies carefully, attempting to appear as stoic as possible while he, perhaps recklessly, tries to reason with the devil. He thinks Satan will appreciate that, as much as it may also bother him. He would not like Cas to hide under the bed like a scared child.

Indeed pissed off, the spirit huffs and grabs the metal tightly, which burns red and hot. “You do nothing with your freedom, you waste your gifts. You don’t enjoy it, you don’t indulge. You don’t even take the human for yourself. You could have him so easily, his innocence, his heart. And what a privilege it would be to break one of _our_ enemies! I would celebrate you for that.”

“I don’t _want_ to break him.”

“He’ll forgive you, I promise, he’ll come running back to you.”

Castiel shakes his head and wrinkles the bridge of his nose, disgusted at the very idea of using and abusing Dean, his feelings, his insecurities, in such a selfish way, just to appease his lord.

“You cannot even do that one simply thing!” Satan exclaims, furious with Castiel’s soft, _human_ reaction. Pointing a finger at him, he continues to berate Cas. “You’ve lost your way and turned your back on our ways, our family, your destiny. For a mortal boy! I will give you _one_ more chance, Castiel. When the time comes, and it’ll be soon, you will have to choose between the mortal world and our world. If you forsake us, you will lose my protection and I will have no choice but to replace you as my right hand with my second choice. You can protect some by joining me or you can watch them all burn if you betray me.”

Satan backs away, disappearing into the darkness of the room. Castiel wants to say something but he’s not quick enough to decide whether he should try to convince the devil to show some leniency and relax its strict plans for him or if he should just downright defy him and try to intimidate him into staying away. Or maybe he should try to catch and subdue the spirit while he can, in its weaker form. However, before he can make up his mind and form a plan, Satan’s gone.

He wakes up abruptly, sitting up in his bed as he gasps for air and hears Dean shouting his name over and over again. Upon opening his eyes, he sees Dean pinned to the wall on the other side of the room, feet hovering a few centimetres above the ground. He struggles with all his might against Castiel’s magic but he cannot move a single inch. On the doorway are Gabriel and Seir (not in his corporal shape but in the dark mist of a spirit) trying but also failing to move against the power that keeps them away from the witch. Outside, a powerful storm is raging on. Rain violently splatters against the windows, thunder illuminates his room as if the lights were on. 

In the presence of danger, his magic ran wild in an attempt to protect him but it relaxes and returns to him the moment he’s awake and aware of what he’s doing, like an elastic band snapping back to it’s starting point after stretching too much and then being let go. All of a sudden Dean, now subject to the effects of nothing but gravity, drops to the ground on all fours and Seir snaps back into his bird form, collapsing on the ground. Gabriel, who had been trying to enter the room, stumbles forward, balancing himself just in time with the door to avoid falling as well. Castiel jumps from the bed and runs towards them, picking up his familiar in one hand while he touches Dean’s shoulder with the other.

He starts apologizing frantically to everyone but especially to Dean, who has never before seen him lose his grip like this. When Dean kneels on the floor and meets his eyes, it kills Castiel to see a mix of apprehension and concern in those beautiful green eyes that usually look at him with nothing but adoration. He’s grabbing his left wrist with his right hand, he’s hurt.

“Cas, _what the hell_?” Gabriel exclaims, both annoyed and alarmed, which is saying something as he’s seen his fair share of situations where Cas lost control. “What in Satan's name did you see?”

By now Gabriel has learned that when things like this happen, it’s because Castiel has had a nightmare or _worse,_ a vision of some kind. After all, Cas spent all summer having nightmares and causing storms.

“You’re hurt.” 

Cas reaches out to grab Dean’s wrist. Anticipating it will hurt to move it, Dean attempts to pull away but Cas is faster. Dean braces himself for the pain but he feels nothing but some uncomfortable electricity running under his skin and then, just as quickly as the pain came, it’s gone. He moves his wrists back and forwards and smiles.

“Thanks, man,” he breathes with a relieved smile.

“I’m so sorry, Dean,” Castiel repeats. He feels sick knowing he’s hurt Dean. For how long did Cas have him pinned to the wall like that? For how long did Dean try to wake him up, calling out his name?

The guilt in his eyes is clear to Dean who shrugs dismissively, like it’s no big deal, and pats him in the shoulder.

“Hey, no harm done, relax.”

Seir caws in agreement, shuffling closer to Castiel’s chest in an affectionate way.

“Hey, lover boy!” Gabriel snaps at his brother, throwing his arms out, irritated. “Are you going to explain yourself or what? What did you see, Castiel?” 

In a grim tone, Castiel explains, “I saw him, Gabriel.”

Frowning, his brother asks, “him...?” 

“ _Him_ ,” Castiel repeats pointedly.

The change in Gabriel’s eyes, how they go from annoyed to disturbed, is all Cas needs to know his brother knows what he means. Gabe is uncharacteristically speechless for a moment. The worst part is he doesn't look shocked, he’s not telling Cas it was just a dream and he doesn’t jump to say it’s an honour to be visited by the devil himself, all things that he would have expected his deeply satanist brother to say. Gabriel, the trickster, free spirit, wanderer, lover of free will and independence, a perfect example of a witch who loves nothing but to play mischievous tricks on humans who deserve it. For as long as Castiel can remember, Gabriel spoke nothing but great things of Satan and Hell and all the lifestyle that comes with being a witch… And now, when Satan finally makes his appearance in Castiel’s life, Gabriel automatically knows that something’s wrong. The anxiety, practically _fear,_ is plastered in his face and it makes Castiel feel even worse.

“What did he want from you?” he asks. Once again, the atypically serious demeanour of his brother does nothing but unnerve Castiel.

“To save my soul.”

“What does that mean?” Dean asks.

Castiel feels Dean’s thumb drawing circles on his. They’re holding hands. He can’t remember them joining hands but goddamn, he never wants to let go again.

“He’s giving me one more chance to prove myself. He wants me to join him and—and, well, fulfil my destiny.”

“Your destiny?”

Dean looks back and forwards between the brothers, feeling like he’s missing something as the Novaks grow more tense by the second. His eyes land on his boyfriend last, waiting for an explanation.

Cas, ashamed of himself, of what he could be capable of, avoids meeting his eyes. He doesn’t want to admit that he could and at one point somewhat considered bringing Hell on Earth. He likes the way Dean looks at him, like he’s a living mystery, but the interesting and amusing kind, not dangerous and certainly not an enemy.

To speed things along, because Dean has to be made aware of it at this point and there’s just no way to keep this from him, Gabriel responds for Cas. 

“The kid here has been chosen to bring on the apocalypse.”

Despite the seriousness of Gabriel’s statement, Dean snorts and bursts out laughing for a few seconds but stops when the brothers do nothing but stare at him in silence with blank faces, even slightly disapproving frowns.

“Oh, you’re serious,” he says, then points towards Castiel and asks, “ _him_ ? _Really_?”

“Cas is an extremely powerful witch.”

“Yeah, I know but…” Dean turns to Cas again, looking at him up and down before smiling and turning to Gabe again, “it’s _Cas._ ”

“Why do you think I asked you to include him back with your friends? He’s got it in him, somewhere. We all do, darkness is a part of us.”

“You did _what_?” Castiel fumes. He’s not happy at all to find that, once again, Gabriel had plots of his own behind his back.

But his brother waves a hand dismissively, not a drop of guilt in his demeanour. “You were going dark side, Cas, and not in a fun way. You were not responding to me. _Some_ level of darkness is fine but you were going down a path that I—I didn’t want that for you. Dad didn’t either and your mother literally named you after an angel to ensure you were saved from absolute darkness. Be mad all you want but I did us all a favour.”

“You keep hiding things from me!”

“Yeah, well, I promised you I’d protect this stupid planet, didn’t I?” Gabriel responds, losing his patience. Castiel knows he’s not going to apologize and, deep down, he knows his brother is right and only meant to help.

He sighs, trying to roll back on his anger. There’s no point arguing about it. After all, it turned out to be the right thing to do, apparently, because it did help him dig out of the dark hole he was getting buried in, to stop and even counter the spread of the seed of darkness inside of him.

“That you did…” Cas admits, and he’s about to let it go but then he remembers something else. “You didn’t tell me the Fitzgeralds were werewolves either!”

Completely unperturbed by that, he responds, “Garth turned, huh? Look, the Fitzgeralds came to me asking for help settling in, they wanted to live somewhere safe without hunters where Garth could turn without hurting people _if_ he did when he came of age, in werewolves standards, which is why I gave them a loan. They’re nice folk and we needed a better bakery in town. What can I say, Cas? They asked me not to tell you, they wanted their kid to have a normal life. It wasn’t my secret to tell.”

Cas wants to argue but he really can’t with that one, he knows once again Gabriel is right. Internally he wonders when his brother got so wise and sensible.

“Just—just stop hiding things from me. Okay?”

Gabriel rolls his eyes dramatically but eventually nods in agreement.

“Look, I got attacked at the carnival, now I realize it was the devil. He’s angry—no, he’s _disappointed_ in me. Then Rowena warned me something is up in Hell, that dark forces are gathering and that my name is being spoken a lot. They’re coming for me, either to have me lead them or to destroy me. We need to do something about it, before they cross over.”

Gabriel sighs deeply and closes his eyes, shifting to lean against the wall for a second. He lets his head drop back and hit the wall with a low _thud_. 

“Perfect,” he groans, “another parenting crisis.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel laments sincerely. Since the day Gabriel got stuck on this side of the world and had to step up to parent Castiel, his little brother tried to make it easy on him but being a Novak doesn’t come without some degree of adventure and odd things happening around you. Life is bound to get even weirder when you’re an abnormal, rather taboo cross between a famous witch and a small town mortal.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Gabe tells him, giving Cas that trademark smirk of his he always gives his little brother when he wants to look strong and alleviate his concerns. “We can’t really do much from here, but we’ll talk to dad about it. He’ll have to look into it, make sure the other doors are safe."

“Purson mentioned he doesn’t want an apocalypse. He likes Hell the way it is. He could help dad.”

“Noted. I’ll let him know. Now you two go back to bed and, Cas, _please_ try to stay away from trouble.”

Castiel is about to protest because he doesn’t go looking for trouble, it just seems to have a way of finding _him_ , but Gabriel is already leaving and closing the door behind him.

“So,” Dean asks while he stands up, offering a hand to help Cas up, “who’s Purson?”

“Hmmm…” 

He considers whether he should tell Dean the whole truth or not. There’s so much Dean still doesn’t know about him, about the witchy side of him, and Cas is never particularly eager to speak about it. His mother never judged his father for the things he’d done (and he’d done far worse and more numerous things than Castiel had in his young life) and she forgave him and loved them in spite of them, so Cas knows a mortal can love a witch but he is still afraid Dean might not be the same towards him. He wants to be the nice, kind and quiet guy Dean pictures him to be.

“It’s a, err, King of Hell… to whom I sort of owe loyalty to. I made a deal with him, by mistake.”

Dean lifts an eyebrow and curiously asks, “how do you make a deal with a King of Hell by _mistake_?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Well, I’m awake,” Dean shrugs as he lays back in bed with his hands behind his head, “might take me a while to go back to sleep. Enlighten me.”

Cas lays down next to him, hoping he could just change the subject. He’s not ashamed of being a witch, just afraid that Dean’s not going to like it.

“You really want to know?”

Dean turns with a smile and gives him a light peck on the lips.

“I wanna know everything about you, Cas,” he whispers in a loving, intimate tone that has butterflies fluttering in Cas’ stomach.

Also whispering, Cas counters, “what if you don’t like what you hear? What if you don’t like… who I am?”

“You know my secrets. You know the shit I’ve done and yet here we are. Right?”

Castiel shrugs and averts his eyes. Dean's sins can't compare to Castiel's, the witch's are far worse. 

Dean kisses his cheek. “Cas…”

“It’s not the same. You’ve stolen. Got into a few fights. I have the power of bringing the apocalypse onto this Earth.”

“But you haven’t. It’s like your brother said, you all have darkness in you. Hell, humans do too. But I _know_ there’s goodness in you too and I’m not going to stop cheering for it, Cas. I mean, I went on our first date knowing what I was getting myself into, didn’t I? So no matter how weird or dark being a witch is, you can tell me and I’ll listen and I’ll like you just the same, okay?”

Castiel turns his gaze to meet Dean’s and returns his smile. He nudges Dean’s nose with his own affectionately and nods.

“Okay, Dean.” Cas gets comfortable and makes the light go out again before he starts telling Dean about his deal with a King of Hell. “So, I kind of blame Gabriel for what happened with Purson...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gifs:  
> storm: glow-lovely  
> Gabriel: astralgabriel (gotta love this blog)


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *****TRIGGER WARNING*****  
> (minor but unsurprising spoilers ahead)  
> Please note there are mentions of self-harm in this chapter and although they’re not related to mental health problems such as, for example, depression, if it is triggering for you, let me know and I will edit the chapter for you and send it to you.  
> Furthermore, I’d like to take a moment to remind you of the archive warning associated with this story: graphic description of violence. Please consider yourself warned as characters in the story might get injured in one way or another in the future and there are also mentions of animal sacrifices (although there are no descriptions of said animals being harmed).

After the events of the night of the carnival, Charles gives his son strict instructions to perform certain rituals and sacrifices to appease the devil and show his devotion.

“You have to start taking this more seriously,” he tells his son in a grave tone. The whole situation, the unexpected visit Satan paid his son, makes even Charles uneasy. There’s a restlessness about his father Castiel has never seen before. Just like Gabriel, he doesn’t seem to be proud that Satan visited Castiel. Quite the contrary, it seems to have upset him deeply. “You need to show loyalty and gratitude.”

In a low voice, as if he were sharing a secret, Cas argues, “but I don’t want to bring on the apocalypse.”

“You don’t have to, son. This happens every few centuries; he’s got favourites, there’s always someone who is supposed to bring on the end of the human world and yet it hasn’t happened. Satan encourages that; chaos, violence, tension. He’s bored, son, nothing more. Just humour him a little until he forgets about you and moves on. Don’t make him angrier. He just needs to  _ think _ you’re falling in line.”

Tricking the devil, how very witchy of his father.

“I’m not going to hurt anybody though,” his son firmly states.

“Not even a little? Nothing pleases the lord like shedding blood. I mean, humans break bones all the time, they heal,” his dad suggests, shrugging and giving him the tiniest of mischievous grins. That’s absolutely where Gabriel gets it from.

“Dad!”

His father chuckles and raises his hands in surrender. “I’m joking, I’m joking… but also, if you do, I wouldn’t mind at all.”

Castiel tries hard, he really does. For starters, he spends the entire weekend in their church, praying. He doesn’t see his friends like he’d promised but Dean makes sure they know he’s got a really good excuse. After all Dean can catch up Garth and Benny with everything that’s been going on as well as Castiel could.

During those two days, the young witch barely eats or drinks anything, he just reads and reads out loud from the satanic bible, he prays and makes a few blood offerings which include his own blood and that of other animals he has to kill himself. He doesn’t like to, really struggles with taking lives, but Gabriel is there to support him and, also, kind of keep watch to make sure he follows through with it; poorly executed rituals are dangerous things.

He has to cut himself, trying hard not to make any sounds as he does. He hopes that shedding his own blood instead of that of others will be enough to show he’s serious about his intentions to remain on the devil’s good side. It’s hard for Gabriel to watch his brother mutilate his own body, see the blood dripping out and hear Castiel’s muffled groans. It goes against everything in him, every instinct to protect Castiel but this is something they have to do and it’s nothing compared to what Satan is ultimately asking of him. If it pleases him, it’s a very small price to pay. They both agree not to tell Dean at all about that though, he would not allow Cas to continue hurting himself like that.

“Do you really think praying and blood offerings will satisfy him?” Castiel asks him at the end of a very long and very boring Sunday. He’s dizzy from the blood loss but Gabriel has at least cured his cuts and is walking him home under the moonlight.

“I sure hope so,” Gabriel responds. There’s not a drop of humour in him. Castiel kind of wishes there was. “But you have to really mean the things you do, Cas. Lose the fear, lose the compassion. Stop hesitating. It’s just a goat or a rabbit. We eat beef and chicken all the time.”

“It’s not the same and you know it. I don’t find it easy to kill,” Cas admits, “and truth be told, I’m not even sure that’s a bad thing, Gabe.”

“You’re too soft, Cas. Better the lives of some goats than your friends, don’t you think? It’s called sacrifice for a reason.”

Castiel watches his way carefully. If he trips with the smallest of sticks, he’s going to fall flat on his face. He feels like shit, utterly drained. On top of the physical discomfort, a sea of doubts, worries and dread stir his stomach. He wants nothing but to please the devil in a way that doesn’t include hurting people and being something he doesn’t want to be. He realizes he may have to reconsider some of his boundaries, for the sake of the greater good, the safety of his people, but how many other fools in history told themselves exactly that before doing something stupid?

“I suppose…”

Taking pitying on him, Gabriel sighs and plants a hand on his shoulder. “You need to be a little bit more witch and a little less mortal, that’s all. At least for a while, until Satan’s eyes are no longer in you, like dad said. Go to a party and raise a little hell, steal someone’s wallet, cross a red light, push someone down the stairs. You don’t need to kill, just, you know, stop being so well behaved.”

“The last time I followed your advice on this matter, you sent a hunter to keep an eye on me,” Cas points out, narrowing his eyes at his brother.

“Yeah, well, you were in a tough spot, going a little  _ too _ dark. Come on, Cas, have fun with it! Pull a few pranks. Dad will take care of the rest.”

Castiel tries to be a good boy by being a bad boy and following his family’s advice but he feels stupid doing simple things like making Dick trip in the hallway, forcing nightmares into people and causing a gas leak that doesn’t kill anybody but still forces the school to cancel classes for the day just to be safe while his dad is travelling Hell in search of answers. Off he goes on a dangerous mission, trying to get more information about this destiny his son is supposed to fulfill while Cas thinks of harmless ways to mess with people. The worst he does is scare the local priest who has always disliked Gabriel by switching the water in his bathtub for blood. Satan must be rolling his eyes at him.

Every day he continues to spend hours at church after school. Knowing what he’s up to, his friends let him copy their homework; Cas has more important things to do, like worrying about the devil instead of some trivial school assignment. Exams are coming though, looming over the horizon, and he can’t help but stress he’s not going to be well prepared for those.

“You can always cheat and win points with Satan,” Gabriel tells him to ease his anxiety with that characteristically playful smirk of his.

In an attempt to help Castiel find a safe space to do some bad deeds, Gabriel makes a potion to make him temporarily older and together they head out to a quite shady dive bar a few towns over. Castiel’s not exactly sure what he’s supposed to do but the mission is quite straightforward; get in trouble, raise a little Hell, appease the lord.

The place is small, crowded, loud and has a strong smell of sweat and alcohol. It’s not at all the sort of place Castiel would go to and not the type of crowd he’d mingle with. It is evident he is terribly out of place there, walking awkwardly through the mass of bikers, truck drivers passing by, loners who could easily be serial killers on the road and ladies who ogle him like he’s eye candy. Gabriel, on the other hand, behaves like he’s at home, like he owns the place, heading straight towards the bar without hesitation.

“How often do you come to these places?” Castiel asks him, maybe a little worried about his brother’s hobby’s on Earth.

“Often enough. This is a witch’s playground, Cas. Loads of drunk folk who have no idea what’s happening to them. Easy targets to get your frustrations out on.” When Castiel pulls a judgemental face, Gabriel rolls his eyes at him and says, “I  _ promise _ , most of them have it coming.”

When they reach the bar Gabe asks for drinks. After paying the waitress, they head to a booth in a dark corner.

As he looks around the room, anxiety creeping up his spine, Cas asks, “what do I do, then?” 

“First of,” Gabe starts as he pushes one glass of whiskey towards him, “drink up and relax.”

“I’m not old enough to drink at a bar,” Castiel states dumbly causing his brother to exhale with irritation and run a hand through his hair.

“You are tonight. Also, Cas, the whole point of tonight is you doing things you wouldn’t normally do. Stop being so uptight.”

Gabe pushes the drink all the way to the edge of the table on Castiel’s side. Cas looks down at it, wrinkling his nose at it. Just the smell of alcohol makes him want to stay away from it, it’s too intense.

“I don’t like whiskey.”

“For the love of Satan, Cas, drink it!”

Without any further arguing but wishing he was with Dean instead, watching a movie or something, he drinks the damn thing. It stings his tongue and throat all the way down to his stomach, he can  _ feel _ every drop on its way down his body. He shudders and makes a face of disgust. Gabriel doesn’t know whether to smack him or laugh.

“You’ll grow used to it. Okay, so, one of my favourite sources of entertainment ever are bar fights. It’s so easy and so universal, you can do it anywhere.”

“You want me to start a bar fight?” Gabriel nods. “What if someone gets hurt?”

“That’s the best part. It’s not a bar fight if nobody sheds some blood.”

Castiel really wants to argue with that but at this point, he knows there’s no point. He sighs and turns on his seat, eyes scanning the bar. “So how do I start a bar fight?”

“That’s just the best part, there are so many ways, just get creative! Make someone too drunk, make someone hit on another guy’s girl, make someone drop someone else’s drink. Whatever, it isn’t hard, anything will get these fuckers going. And don’t feel bad for them, I promise many of them  _ want _ a fight, they’re just waiting for a reason to start it. We’re basically just doing them a favour…”

In theory he knows it’s easy to accomplish the mission but the lack of real desire has Cas hesitating and shifting in his seat, completely out of ideas. Besides the devil being pissed at him for being goody two-shoes, he’s got no real motivation to cause any of the folks in the bar any trouble. They’re complete strangers to him, people he’s never met or seen before, just unlucky bastards in his way. Maybe some deserve it, as Gabe said, but he doesn’t know that, he’s not hunting someone to punish and he’s not about to invade every person’s mind to see who’s got it coming.

“I need another drink,” he decides after a moment and turns back around to grab another of the several drinks Gabe bought.

“All yours, baby brother,” Gabe smirks, pushing all the glasses towards him. “Get smashed.”

Cas has two more whiskeys. He does a full body shudder again, coughing at the end when he has too much at once. Maybe someday it’ll grow on him but not tonight. He doesn’t get the glamour associated with drinking whiskey, it’s just a throat burner for him.

“Savor it!” his brother scolds him when all Castiel does is down it all at once.

“That’s what I’m trying to avoid,” he retorts in a hoarse voice. Cas sets his glass down with a little too much force, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and turns back around on his seat to study the room. “Alright, let’s do this.”

Gabriel settles back on his seat and lets Castiel work his magic. As promised, it is so easy to cause a fight, all he has to do is create a few misunderstandings here and there and there are a few guys throwing punches at each other in no time. With a slightly unfocused gaze, Castiel beams, satisfied with himself, but also monitoring the situation to make sure it doesn’t escalate to anything too serious. He then takes to pissing people off, even if there’s no real harm done; full glasses accidentally drop to the floor, money gets blown away by an unexpected breeze even though nobody opened the door, the music in the bar constantly changes to some trashy modern pop song everyone absolutely hates, slippery floors cause embarrassing falls. Slowly the mood in the bar changes, everyone becomes irritated and jumpy. Instead of enjoying it, Cas is somewhat worried of how it might impact the business for the owners.

“You’re a lost cause,” Gabriel sighs and empties his glass. “Be a bad boy and go get us more drinks. Feel free to get in trouble on the way to the bar.”

“Doubtful...”

But Gabriel asks and Hell provides...

The area around the bar is crowded, a bunch of different people yelling at the bartender trying to catch their attention. Cas stands around awkwardly for a few seconds, not knowing what to do. He could try to squeeze his way to the bar or join the crowd and start yelling what he wants but he doesn’t feel comfortable doing either. He looks for Gabe through the crow, giving him a pleading look for assistance, but his brother just shakes his head disapprovingly.

“Want some drinks?”

Cas turns around to face the man who is speaking to him. The guy is a few years older than Cas seems to be at the time. His eyes are slightly unfocused, probably from the alcohol, but he’s all in all fairly good looking. He’s giving Cas this lazy, friendly smile that instantly puts him at ease.

“Yes, but the bartender’s quite busy.”

“Hey, Sylvie!” the man shouts at the bartender, who snaps her head in his direction, waiting for him to say something as she pours alcohol into someone else’s glass. The guy turns towards Castiel again. “What’s your poison?”

“My what?”

“What do you want?”

“Four drinks.”

“Yeah but what?”

Castiel panics and shrugs; he hadn’t really thought about that. “I don’t know, more whiskey I guess.”

The man snorts, staring at him up and down like Cas is so funny, even though he wasn’t trying to be. “Four whiskeys!” he yells at the bartender who nods before turning away to look for glasses. “So, you new here? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“Yes, just… out with my brother,” Cas responds, gesturing back in Gabriel’s direction with his head.

The guy turns in his seat to look in the direction of the brothers’ booth, then back at Cas. He drinks and smiles again, and Cas relaxes and smiles back; people in the bar aren’t as bloodthirsty as Gabe had described them to be, Castiel is finding this one person to be quite nice.

“What are you guys up to tonight?”

Castiel takes a deep breath, eyes skimming around the room while thinking what else he could do next that is annoying but not dangerous to a human. “Looking for trouble, I was told.”

The stranger, oblivious to Castiel’s pure honesty, chuckles. He stands up all of a sudden and takes a step closer to Cas before leaning in a bit closer to tell him something but as he does the bartender puts the drinks down on the bar in front of them and Cas distractedly turns to grab them. He throws a few dollar bills her way without a care for the change and does his best to grab the four drinks all at once.

“I can help with that,” the stranger offers.

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” Castiel assures him with a smile. He’ll use his magic to keep the glasses in place if he has to, with all the drunk people around him no one will notice him doing something that’s a little off. “Thank you for your help, I’ll see you later.”

The stranger nods in agreement and drinks, eyes locked in Cas who feels just the tiniest bit weird under those watchful eyes, like he’s missing something. 

Back at the table, Cas puts their drinks down and takes a big swig before he’s even sitting down again. He needs liquid courage.

Unable to help himself, the protective nature carved into his soul at this point, Gabe warns him, “easy there, cowboy. Not so fast.”

“You were right, I’m getting used to it.”

“You’re getting drunk,” Gabriel corrects him with a smirk. “The more you drink, the better it gets.”

“Possibly. Although I’m not getting drinks for us anymore, the bar is full of people. Thankfully, that nice man helped me get drinks.”

Slowly, a knowing grin starts spreading across Gabriel’s face. He rests his cheek on his hand and shakes his head.

“What?”

“I’ll let you figure it out,” his brother responds in a mysterious way, a mocking expression on his face. Cas narrows his eyes at him, realizing by Gabriel’s behaviour that he’s missing something but he isn’t quite sure what.

After a long pause, Cas says,“okay... I’ll be right back, I need to find the bathroom.”

At this point Cas is quite lightheaded. On his way to the bathroom he blinks a few to focus his eyes. He navigates through the sea of patrons (most of whom are inebriated like himself), bumping a few shoulders here and there. One guy gets pissed at him but with a mere movement of his hand, in what could be described a boldly public display of magic, Cas forces him to turn away again. The guy, a bit freaked out by the way his body practically moved on his own, doesn’t go after him again.

The bathroom is disgusting, so much that the witch stops and actually considers just pissing on the side of the road. Cas stands by the door wrinkling his nose as he looks around.  _ Don’t touch anything _ , is the first thing that comes into his mind. Judging by the way piss is all over the floors, people are getting  _ really  _ drunk. With hesitation, he makes his way to one of the urinals with the least spills around it and does his thing. He feels gross just standing close to other people’s urine, not to mention the smell of it is making him sick. He’s all too happy to be done, wash his hands and go but when he turns to leave he realizes the man he’d spoken to at the bar is leaning casually against the door, staring at him like a creep. Cas lifts an eyebrow, confused by the man’s behaviour; he doesn’t look threatening but like he’s waiting for something. 

Before he has time to ask a question, the guy approaches him, forcing Cas to back away until his back meets the wall when the stranger just keeps coming and coming for him like he’s going to kiss the witch. He throws his hands up to stop him, startled by the unwanted closeness and attention. The guy reaches for his belt.

“Wow, what are you doing!?”

The guy gives him a confused look. “We’re doing this or what?”

“Doing  _ what _ ?” Cas asks, slipping out from between the wall and the guy, circling him so that he’s now closer to the door and further away from the stranger. He’s pretty sure he’s stepped on pee which annoys him but he’s got other priorities at the moment.

Now the guy gets annoyed too. “Dude, you gave me all the signs.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Come on! All those smiles, the looking for trouble thing, the see you around.” When Castiel’s puzzled expression doesn’t change and he makes no attempt to break the safe distance he put between them, the man huffs in frustration. He starts putting his belt back the way it was. “So we’re not hooking up?”

Practically scandalized, Cas says, “you want to have  _ sex _ with me?”

“Well, I thought we’d give each other blowjobs, but sure, I’ll fuck you.”

The man takes a step in his direction. The smile on his lips makes Castiel’s skin crawl.

“Sorry, I—I have to go,” he stammers quickly, embarrassed and eager to leave, and flees the scene. The guy tries to go after him but Castiel shuts the order and has his magic lingering there, locking the man in the bathroom so he won’t follow the witch. 

He’s not offended nor entirely put out by the offer; Hell, maybe if he was really older and he didn’t have a soulmate, he’d go for it but at the time the only person he’d fool around with in a bathroom is Dean. Oh, how he’d like that. In his drunken state he has to make an effort not to dwell on those fantasies and cause himself a public erection.

Gabriel is laughing with his full body when he sees Castiel hurrying back to the table with a funny, awkward expression on his face.

“Back so soon?” he asks, cracking up as he talks.

“A man just offered me sex in the bathroom,” Cas deadpans as he sits down and grabs a drink. Alcohol has sort of become his safety blanket for the night, numbing his inhibitions and helping him be just a little bit more witchy.

“Yeah, I know, dumbass. You should have gone for it.”

Somewhat offended, Cas retorts, “I’m with Dean.”

“You’ve been dating for a few weeks, you’re not married, Cas. Besides, he’d forgive you.”

“Oh, so that makes it okay? Is that how you justify lying to me?”

Gabriel rolls his eyes and sits back before taking a long swig of alcohol.

“You’re no fun, baby bro,” he mutters.

“Would you do that to Kali, then?”

Gabriel offers no answer. As far as Castiel can tell, something about his question resonates with his brother, who grows quiet and lost in thought. It’s in that moment that Castiel realizes Gabriel had probably not noticed how serious his relationship with Kali had become until Cas questioned his commitment upfrontly. At this point, one cannot deny there is tenderness between them, even if neither of them are the romantic kind (that Cas knows of, at least). Maybe it started as something purely physical, two weirdos in town coming together for fun sex, sex that Castiel would rather know nothing about and never hear coming from his brother’s bedroom let alone other parts of the house, but as time progressed, so did their relationship. One night stands turned into dates, dates turned into friendship and Cas wonders if friendship is now turning into love, whether Gabriel is aware of it or not. Kali is good for Gabriel; she’s independent, successful, bright and confident, a good match for the witch. She can defy him, she can question him and keep him interested. Such was Gabriel’s trust in her and so much their relationship had developed that he had, eventually, entrusted her with the family secret which did not seem to have changed her opinion of him. Cas likes Kali and he really hopes Gabriel gets with the program and realizes he likes her a lot too, that they’ve got something good going.

The brothers finish their drinks and head back home. Gabriel doesn’t say much but Castiel knows he has not accomplished devilish levels of mischief. He’s barely scratched the surface. He knows he should try to to tap into that dark side he had been exploring last year but the desire is just not there anymore. His soul is at peace, his mind is quiet, there’s no rage or fear or thirst for vengeance, and he’s not naturally naughty, never truly has been. As easily as the seed of evil could spread in him, it could also be overpowered by a side of him that is more docile and kind. There’s nothing motivating him to be bad but Satan’s threats. It should be enough to put him into action but it’s not; all he wants to do is crawl into bed and watch a movie with Dean, play video games with Charlie, take a walk to Benny or eat pastries with Garth. His humanity is showing more than ever and even though others may see it as a bad thing, Cas can’t help but think it’s just the side of his mother that lives within him for which he will never apologize or be ashamed of. From his father he inherited great power, but his mother gave him something just as valuable; the capacity to be happy with a simple life and enjoy love for the precious gift it is, enough to fill any need in his soul where others are greedy or ambitious or power hungry.

Early in the morning Gabriel has him waking up to do more worshipping. Castiel is slightly hungover and really not in the mood. He had plans to go out for lunch with his friends but the ageing spell hasn’t worn off yet, it lasts longer than expected so he kisses those plans goodbye as he cannot go around town looking older for no reason whatsoever. 

Gabe tries to take things up a notch. At the church, after they make the proper sacrifice and draw the sigils on the floor with the poor animal’s blood, light the candles and say a few prayers to the devil, Gabriel gives his little brother a stack of papers.

“What is this?” Castiel asks as he goes through them. It contains information about places, people and also a few newspaper articles.

“Practice targets,” Gabriel responds. He points to the picture of the man in the page Castiel is currently looking at and says, “this guy right here, he’s a conman. He stole about half a dozen people’s retirement funds. He’s out on a technicality.”

“And what exactly will you have me do?”

In response his brother runs a single finger across his neck, tilting his head to the side as he rolls his eyes into his skull and sticks his tongue out for dramatic effect.

“You want me to  _ murder _ him?” Castiel frowns at his brother and shakes his head. He can’t believe Gabriel is even suggesting it. “Have you forgotten my boyfriend is a  _ hunter _ ?”

Gabriel clicks his tongue and calmly states, “like Dean would find out.”

“I’ll know! And I don’t want to keep secrets from him. Maybe we can do something different, like help the police put him in jail or give the funds back to people?”

“It’s not our place to help mortals, Cas, or at least that’s not  _ all _ we should do. We  _ punish _ , we  _ avenge _ , we do the fun part. We bring chaos and disorder. And we  _ enjoy _ it, there’s nothing quite as pleasurable as crushing a bug that had it coming. What do you think Satan’s going to say when you use your powers for good? Your intentions are supposed to be selfish, dark.  _ That’s _ what he wants.” He then snatches the papers from Castiel’s hand. He looks through them quickly before finding the one he wanted to show his brother. “This dude—clergyman who also likes to touch kids. Keeps being reassigned to a different location instead of put in jail to rot. Don’t tell me he doesn’t deserve to kick the bucket.”

Cas grabs the paper and studies the man’s face for a moment. White hair, in this 60's, a nice smile that could easily deceit people. Castiel  _ does _ want to punish him but he’s not sure he can kill him. He  _ wants _ to, like most people would, but he’s not sure he can  _ actually _ go through with it.

However, he does agree to curse the Hell out of him. The brothers put an easy but effective curse on him, causing the pedophile to have visions of his future in Hell every time he even thinks of a child. It’ll be a lifelong torture that will keep him away from kids. Gabriel still thinks Castiel’s intentions are too pure though and that the punishment is not severe enough.

Next they kill all the crops of a company that caused a lot of environmental problems and screwed over a bunch of people. That is fun magic to perform but just as before Gabriel is not convinced Satan will be satisfied as Castiel keeps seeing his acts as a way of bringing justice to the world, constantly trying to reconcile some goodness into the devil’s dark desires.

The hours pass by and Cas loses track of time. Around noon, Dean shows up at the church, startling the brothers when he knocks on the door. Cas is glad he waits outside while the witch cleans the blood off his hands and wherever else it splattered. 

“I’ll be right back,” he tells Gabriel, who does nothing but give him a bitch face for letting a hunter interrupt them.

Castiel steps outside the small building to speak to Dean for a few minutes and explains himself. He forgets for a moment that he looks older so he frowns when Dean’s eyes go wide and his jaw drops.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” he asks. He really hopes there are no traces of blood left.

“You look  _ hot _ ,” Dean whispers in awe. He bites his lip and ogles Cas shamelessly, from top to bottom. “God, I already thought you were handsome but  _ damn _ . Is this really what you’re gonna look like?”

Cas blushes profusely but he can’t help but love the compliment.

“Yes, this is pretty much what I should look like in a few years.”

Dean takes a step closer, eyes raking over Castiel’s face, taking in every detail.

“It’s gonna be fun to watch you grow old, Cas,” Dean says before he lunges forwards and captures his lips in a passionate kiss. He crowds Castiel against the door, hands exploring Castiel’s body like he can't help himself.

Cas wants nothing but to switch positions with Dean and do all kinds of things with him, but now the age thing has been pointed out so clearly he can’t help but be constantly aware of it. He’s older, at least 10 years older, and he might still be Dean’s boyfriend but it’s  _ weird _ .

Also, his brother is a very,  _ very _ short distance away and can probably hear them.

Last but not least, he’s been spending and will continue to spend the entire day doing dark magic and cursing people. He’s not exactly in a sexy mood.

So, mustering all the self control in him, he slowly pushes his boyfriend away although he continues to lean in to kiss him. Cas all but sighs with disappointment when their lips finally part ways.

“Dean,” he starts, his voice more mature and grave which Dean responds to by biting his lip again like there’s nothing else he would like but to have Cas say his name like that again and again again, “there’s nothing more I want than having you push me against a wall and do whatever you want, but not today. Not like this.”

“Why not?” Dean pouts while he tries to break the distance between them again. “We could go up to the house, I’m sure your brother would be happy if you take advantage of me.”

He winks playfully but Cas gives him a stern look.

“ _ I _ would not be happy with that. I would never—”

“Cas, I know, I was joking.”

Dean squeezes his hand in a loving way, then sighs and gives him another once-over. Cas is eye candy to him at the moment.

“You  _ really _ look super hot, damn.”

“I guess you’ll have to stick around and see me grow into this naturally.”

Dean, the secret romantic he is, can’t help the smile that pulls at the corner of his lips at that thought.

“Guess so,” he agrees softly.

Cas cups the side of his neck and gives him a chaste but sweet peck on the lips.

“Tell the guys I’m sorry I missed lunch, okay?” he whispers. He wishes he could go with Dean but he’s got more curses to cast, more sacrifices to make.

Dean nods. “Whatever you guys are doing… be careful, okay? I’ll come over tonight to hang out with you, if that’s alright.”

“That sounds great. The spell will have worn off by then.”

“What a shame,” Dean mutters and winks at him before taking off.

Castiel watches him go, smiling to himself. He feels butterflies in his stomach. Even in the pale light of that cloudy winter afternoon, with all the vegetation practically dead around him, leaving a graveyard, Dean still looks like a dream. He makes Cas want to be a better man.

When he turns to go back in, he finds a small, black butterfly perched in the door of the church. His stomach drops right away; black butterflies are a symbol of change and rebirth… and also an omen of death.

Immediately he spins around and runs after Dean, calling his name. His boyfriend stops at the edge of the woods, waiting for him to catch up.

“Let me walk you to your car.”

Dean gives him a curious look but doesn’t protest; more time together, that’s alright in Dean’s book. Cas walks him to his car and sees him off, keeping an eye on the car as he disappears down the dirt road and making sure to keep his senses alert in case anything tries to pull something on Dean. But then Dean is gone, safe and sound, and Cas goes back to worshipping the devil.

It doesn’t end well, Satan’s not pleased.

At some point later that evening, when the sun is already out for the day and Gabriel has left his brother alone in the church, Cas is reading from his satanic bible when the door of the church opens. Expecting to see his brother, Castiel raises his gaze but no one comes in. He does, however, feel a presence, something dark like that day at the funhouse. The presence is weaker though, more distant.

He gets nervous, he’s not stupid enough to take a visit from the devil lightly, but he stands tall and sure of himself nonetheless. Showing fear would be worse. And, if truth be told, Castiel would rather be reckless than a coward, it just runs in his blood. 

A mist begins to advance towards him from the door. If he were trying to be logical about it he could say it’s the cold condensing inside the hot building or something, but Cas knows better. 

“My lord?” he asks tentatively.

The mist advances more and more, little by little. Cas could swear he almost hears a voice coming from outside, but it’s too low for him to make out anything in particular. Still, the hushed whispers would have a normal mortal shaking in fear.

Not him though. Cas is damned if he will let himself be intimidated after spending so many days trying to prove his loyalty. He’s got some goddamn dignity, he won’t be bullied or pushed around, not by his family, no by a demon, not by the fucking devil. Satan can only ask so much of him, Castiel refuses to submit to the point that he loses sight of who he is or betrays his values. Only he can question and define those, no one else will do it for him. So he waits, jaw tightened, eyes attentive and ready to stand his ground.

Suddenly the book in front of him bursts into flames and he jumps back a few feet. The bible is ablaze. The mist recedes, the book turns into ashes in a matter of seconds and he’s left alone. He gets the message right away; no more praying, no more half-assed satanism, no more pretending to be on the same page. Castiel has made up his mind and apparently so has Satan about him. His heart is in the right place, no longer seeking vengeance and power, and as much as he may pray, as much blood as he may shed, the devil sees right through his intentions, he knows Castiel can no longer become his right hand man for all he truly wants is to protect the humans. He will not hurt them, let alone champion the apocalypse.

Realizing he’s not welcome anymore, Castiel exits the church with his chin up; it’s time to stop pretending he’s something he’s never really been. Done with Satan and his great plans for the young witch, plus other people’s expectations, Cas strides in the direction of his home through the graveyard but suddenly stops and returns. He stands outside the symbol of his now forsaken religion, invoking all his anger and resolution and stubbornness, and without even so much as moving a hand the building erupts in flames. Even alone, he’s strong and fearless. He will not be pushed into submission, he will not kneel like an intimidated little boy. He’s almost exactly what Satan wanted him to become, except he’s not following anyone’s desires but his own.

“Don’t test me,” he tells the night. “I can play with fire too.”

When Dean returns later that night, Cas is both nervous and relieved. He knows that his decision will bring him (and probably others too) a lot of trouble but cannot help but want to move on now that he’s finally chosen a clear path for himself. He’s free, completely free for the first time ever, he’s got no one’s expectations or plans to follow but his own. He’s quiet, lost in thought, and Dean notices. While they’re in bed, his boyfriend elbows him and nudges his nose against Castiel’s cheek.

“What’s up with you? What are you thinking?”

“I think Satan’s done with me. And I’m… done with him too. I don’t please him anymore and I don’t want to try to be something I’m not.”

Dean’s lips part in surprise and his eyebrows shoot up. He doesn’t know what to say, if he should go along with it or support his boyfriend in his weird, twisted religion.

“Cas, are you sure?” he asks carefully, not knowing the protocol for when his boyfriend turns his back on the devil. He’s quite sure he’s not going to find a book with instructions in that area, not even in the bunker of the Men of Letters. 

“I am.” The answer comes easy to him. He rolls on the bed and grabs Dean’s hand. “I know what I want.”

“You don’t have to quit your religion for me. If I ever gave you the feeling that it bothers me, that’s not the case. You do you, man.”

Cas chuckles and brings their lips together, still smiling into the kiss. The kiss stretches for so long Dean thinks they’re done talking but then Cas pulls away to see Dean blushing and a little breathless. There’s nothing better Castiel has ever seen than that and there’s no amount of power, riches or fame that Cas would trade for it.

“To be honest I was never much of a religious man.”

After clearing his throat, Dean counters, “not so long ago you really defended satanism.”

“I still agree with a lot of the pillars, I’m not  _ against _ it, it’s just not working for  _ me _ anymore. Satan and I have reached an impasse.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation Dean can’t help but snort.

“ _ There _ is something I never thought I’d hear anyone say. But then again it’s always like that with you.”

Cas returns his smile but soon he’s rolling back onto his back, thinking, worrying.

“The catch is, whatever I do, whatever I choose, trouble is still heading my way.”

“Hey,” Dean starts, rolling onto his stomach and looking straight into his boyfriend’s eyes, “it’s heading  _ our _ way. This is  _ my _ town too, man. My family finally has a home, I’ll be damned if I let the devil or any other asshole ruin that for me. This is my year, dude. And I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, but you don’t have to face this alone, Cas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First gif: alfonso-cuarons
> 
> I've got to say I'm sorry if this chapter was poorly edited, it's the only one I am not 100% convinced about but maybe it's just cause I'm having a bad day.


	27. Chapter 27

A few days go by and… nothing. Castiel lives his best mortal life, going to school, spending time with his friends and boyfriend, studying and passing his exams with just the regular amount of stress everyone feels at that age. Even Dean does sort of well; some grades are better than others but at least he doesn’t fail any tests and, honestly, at this point, that’s better than he was hoping for.

Garth and Cas spend more time together. Garth’s parents catch him up with all the family history and other things about the world of the supernatural, but Castiel, who was born in a family that has belonged to the night for as long as they can remember, knows far more than his parents. Garth isn’t really that interested in it as a way of life, but he wants to understand the world he is sort of part of now, even if it doesn’t impact his life that much. Or at least he says he won’t let it change his plans or who he is. Cas respects that profoundly.

The witch also has a long, heartfelt talk with Benny, explaining why he kept this secret for so long and how there were hundreds of times he wanted to tell the truth. Now the secret’s out, he feels his friends can understand him better and he doesn’t have to be this mysterious guy anymore. Even if it was always a running joke and a little amusing to others, Cas never really enjoyed it. Being honest by nature, he found it tiring to lie constantly and for so long, especially to those closer to him.

Now the secret’s out, Cas makes an exception in the spell that repels humans from their land so that his friends can visit him without getting that deep, uncomfortable feeling that something’s off which gives them a strong desire to leave as soon as possible. For the first time, Cas really shows them his house, gives them a tour and all, including the secret library (under strict instructions of Gabriel that the humans, including Dean, should not touch anything), his mother’s statue and the church that he no longer visits. It survived the fire just fine, as it was never his intention to actually burn it to the ground since it was still Gabriel’s place of worship; Cas only wanted to show his strength and he did, so he allowed the building to remain there, for now. At first, his friends are a little freaked out by the doors that open by themselves and the presence of his grandmother’s ghost, not to mention knowing there are two demonic spirits in the house (their familiars), but all in all they’re very accepting of Castiel’s secret world.

When they get to his mother’s statue, Charlie grabs his hands and squeezes tightly. Neither says a word. There’s not much to say anyway, they all know the story now and so far they have found nothing that can bring her back to life. But for some reason it’s a very emotional moment for Cas. He can finally grieve out in the open, with the people he loves right there by his side to support him. Lying, biting his tongue about what he knew of his parents’ disappearance, was always one of the worst aspects of being a witch and having to keep it a secret. He hated that people made up stories about his father, saying that he killed his wife and ran away, or that he abandoned his son because he couldn’t take the grief. Some even went as far as hinting that he was in fact the psycho that killed all those people years ago, even some members of the police kept him in mind as a suspect long after the cases went cold. The fact that Castiel could never defend him was worse. Now at least the people that matter to him know the truth.

Maybe naively, Castiel hopes Satan has relented. There’s no doubt he’s technically more powerful than Castiel but without a corporeal shape, the witch is just a tad stronger than him on Earth. Cas wants to believe the devil will be true to its own teachings of liberation more than he’ll be obstinate and spiteful, but that thought in and of itself is just a stretch of wishful thinking, it’s hoping too much from the being that fathers all evil in the world. But if honour to keep his promises to his children doesn’t keep the devil at bay, Cas hopes maybe his defiance and clear threat will. He  _ will _ fight the devil if he has to, he just rather not have it all come down to that. If the devil wants to punish him, fine, bring it on, but Cas fears that his vengeance would stretch beyond the limits of his land. He doesn’t want Satan’s claws or, more precisely, that of whoever he sends to do his dirty bidding, on his town, his friends, the mortals who would never see him coming nor would be able to fight them back.

Either way, for whatever reason, everything is calm and normal in their little town. There are no strange accidents (the Novaks and the Winchesters keep a careful eye on every piece of news or gossip that might sound fishy or supernatural), no weird deaths, no crimes or murders, not even bar fights to report. The winter is cold but their spirits are warm and happy. They’re a little stressed from studying but nothing a cake from Garth’s parents cannot fix. A shadow of concern nests on the back of Castiel’s mind but his loved ones give him courage. It’s all good, life is working out just fine, and everyone’s excited about the future and what’s coming after school.

But all good things must come to an end, or at least so Dean says.

The first time something odd happens they brush it off, some would say a little too quickly. Dean hears from his father that a colleague’s brother died during a rather unfortunate hunting accident. John mentions he feels really bad for his colleague, who had been so excited to have his brother visiting them over the weekend. Dean asks how it happened and John says the guy was getting ready to shoot, so the safety lock was not on, when he tripped and shot himself dead. Dean then asks if anyone else was around or if any other weird thing happened, which just earns a strange look from his dad. In the end, after debating with Cas whether they should look into this or not, they realize there isn’t really a lot they can do about it. They conclude that accidents  _ can _ actually happen, mortals are plagued with them, so they let it go and just hope nothing else will happen.

However, not long after that accident—in fact, nine days later—, on an unforgivingly cold Thursday morning, Gabriel wakes Castiel up earlier than usual for school. Cas, who normally wakes up to his alarm, is but a little pissed off to have his unusually pleasant dreams interrupted.

“What?” he groans in an impossibly deep voice as he rubs his eyes.

“You’ll have to ask Dean to take you to school today.”

Cas opens the one eye with a lot of effort. It takes him a second to focus his vision on his brother. The seriousness of Gabe's face wakes him up like a bucket of icy water. Gabe is but a little pale, his face hardened by worry. By bad news. Castiel sits up in his bed, bracing himself to hear whatever it is that happened.

“Why?”

“There’s been an accident. A car crashed, last night. I want to check out the scene and the body. I am going to need Seir’s help.”

“So someone died?”

“Not just someone. Ryan Woods.” Castiel stares back and waits. When Gabriel realizes Cas doesn’t know what that means,  _ who  _ that is, he explains, “as in, Richie Woods’ cousin? Also a firefighter, nice dude?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,  _ oh _ . I want to know if this was just an accident or if there was any funny business involved.”

“Okay. I’ll call Dean, no problem. Please send Seir to update me if you find anything.”

“Will do.” Gabe nods before exiting the room.

The accident is all Cas can think about that morning. He decides not to bother his friends with unnecessary concerns since they don’t really know what happened yet, but Dean, who has been briefed by Sam about the news that same morning, seems to think quite the contrary and organizes a quick gathering in the hallway before class.

“Your brother reads the newspaper in the morning?” Benny asks incredulously.

Dean shrugs. “The kid’s a nerd. Anyway, Ryan was apparently also a stand up guy. His career wasn’t as impressive as his cousin’s but still, he could be…” Dean looks around to make sure no one’s hearing them, then says in a very low voice, “sacrifice material.”

“We don’t know that it’s related to the spell,” Castiel interjects. He doesn’t want them to worry too fast about things that are not yet confirmed. “Gabriel is at the scene, he will let me know if he finds anything weird. There’s no point worrying until after he gets back to me with more information.”

“But even if he doesn’t find anything, how can we be sure that it’s not related to this?” Charlie raises the question. “I mean, it happened before, your family couldn’t sense the presence of another witch, yet something evil was clearly happening.”

That’s a question that Cas doesn’t have an answer for. Not only that, but it’s also been bothering him since Gabriel took off with their familiars.  _ If _ the accident was caused by a witch, it is possible that the culprit is the same person that acted all those years ago, the one that could somehow elude them and hide their traces of magic.

But why? Why would that person stick around for so long in that little, boring, normal town, hiding? It’s very unlike a witch to do that.

“But it just wouldn’t make sense,” Castiel insists. “The door to Hell is closed. Even  _ if _ they succeed to cast the spell, what’s the point? No one can cross over.”

Not having an answer to Castiel’s valid point, Dean just shrugs. “I don’t know, man, we’ll figure that out later. Right now we need to make sure no one else dies.”

“So what do we do?” Garth asks.

Dean finds all eyes on him. “I… don’t know… Set up a… patrol, maybe?”

“Maybe Cas is right and we’re just getting ahead of ourselves…” Charlie mumbles.

“Accidents don’t just happen accidentally,” Dean blurts out, then immediately realizes he’s just said something dumb.

Cas smiles fondly at him and pats his shoulder as the bell rings. “I promise you I’ll ask Seir to police the streets at night. Let’s just wait and see what Gabe says, okay?”

Dean’s not convinced but he drops it, for now, and walks his boyfriend to class.

Even though it’s cold, Castiel and Dean have lunch in the Impala, waiting for Seir to report back. The crow comes and gives his master the news that Gabe did not find any traces of magic, then takes off again before anyone can see Cas talking to a bird. The news doesn't relieve them at all but there’s really nothing else they can do but wait and see what’s going to happen a week from then.

The following Wednesday, Castiel and Gabriel patrol the night with their familiars. They don’t even know if something is really going to happen, but if someone  _ is _ trying to cast the same spell as back in the day, then from that night on they are able to make the next sacrifice. Dean wants to join in but Cas manages to convince him to stay home. He may have used a little bit of magic to persuade his boyfriend, but if he did he’ll never tell... 

Cas takes a nap right after school, knowing he’s going to have a long night ahead of himself. While the brothers take the car and drive around, occasionally stopping for a while here and there, Seir patrols the night from the sky. Even though they don’t know what to expect, they’re somewhat nervous, especially Gabriel. They’re quiet, cautious and hopeful that nothing will come of their watch. Gabe is not eager to go through what he did all those years ago, with the whole town throwing suspicious glances at his family (or more so than usual), whispering that they’re murderers, satanists (but not the fun kind) and who knows what else… He doesn’t want Cas to go through that either, especially since this is his hometown so the insults and the rejection would cut deeper.

Absentmindedly, Gabriel whispers a prayer of protection. Castiel huffs a laugh and shakes his head.

“I think Satan’s cheering for the other team, Gabriel.”

Gabe doesn’t say anything but he does stop praying as he considers his brother’s words. Perhaps it would be wiser to keep Satan out of the equation while they can. He doesn’t seem amused in the slightest, having to forsake his faith which he would normally turn to for help and strength. Cas has to admit he doesn’t envy Gabriel, who is trapped between a rock and a hard place, trying to fulfil his promise to Castiel and protect their town while also struggling to go against his religion, his god.

Nothing happens that night, nor the following. Relieved although not totally letting their guards down, they all kind of start to convince each other and themselves that maybe it  _ was _ just a coincidence after all, an unlucky accident that took the life of a valuable member of their community. When Friday comes and goes as well without any accidental deaths or murders reported, the gang feels comfortable enough to even go out to this gathering they’ve heard about. 

There’s a party in the woods being organized, somewhere along the lines where the outskirts of the two closest towns meet. Even though people they don’t like are going, the crowd is going to be big enough that they shouldn’t have to worry about any confrontations. Their friends from the next town over are going too so even if the bullies from their school so much as look in their direction with the intention of pulling something, their gang would be too numerous to mess with. That and Cas is also more willing to pull some magic trick now that his friends know what he is and can help him cover his tracks.

Quite the amount of people turn up for the party. The gang searches for their friends in the crowd, ignoring people they don’t want to even look at and joining the party where they feel welcome. A few lights have been hung on the trees, powered up by generators, and there are also a few bonfires here and there. Some people also leave the light of their cars on to cast some light into the woods. Cas wonders what for before he sees couples venturing into the night, looking for some privacy. It’s cold but not unbearable and there’s alcohol to keep them warm—or at least the ones that are drinking, like Pamela and Benny, who make a beeline towards the beer. They want to get smashed. Dean looks longingly in their direction but as the designated driver, he refrains from taking a single drop.

Pamela is dressed to kill, with tight pants, high heel boots and a tight shirt underneath a simple leather jacket. It’s beyond Cas how she can stand being dressed like that in this weather but she says she can take a little cold in the name of being the hottest girl at the party. Arthur, trying to throw Inias a bone, asks him to be his wing-man and they both disappear into the crowd to talk to girls from the other town. Victor and Jo make bets on how many girls Arthur will hit on before he actually scores and keeps tabs on their friends from a distance. Ash keeps complaining about the cold and Gilda offers to drive him home a bunch of times but one look in Jo’s direction has him muttering  _ no, thanks _ . Cas is kind of cold too but Dean is by his side at all times, with one arm over his shoulders, pressing their bodies against each other to share their warmth. Benny and Dean are both on fire, telling joke after joke, making everyone laugh (they may sometimes be laughing  _ at _ them, but not in a malicious way, just because it’s funny to see them act silly). Gilda asks Charlie to dance and all but drags her to a small group of kids that are dancing around the fire. Cas knows Charlie isn’t much of a dancer (at least not in public) but there’s little to nothing she wouldn’t try for Gilda. 

There are multiple things happening all at once, people in their group having more than one conversation at the same time. Victor and Jo keep tabs on Arthur and Inias while each of them is holding another conversation with Pamela and Ash. Also, Pamela tries to convince Jo to mingle with the crowd and talk to other guys while Ash keeps distracting them so they won’t. Benny and Dean are watching the girls dance, giggling at Charlie’s utter awkwardness but also giving her a thumbs up in support from the distance when she glances over with a look of profound embarrassment. They also occasionally interrupt conversations to interject a thought and just as quickly as they joined, they get distracted and start talking of something else between them. Whatever he’s doing, Dean does not detach himself from Castiel’s side, except if he needs to grab another drink; never something with alcohol though. His hands are always on Cas; in his hips, holding hands, with an arm around his shoulders, or rubbing his boyfriend’s back to keep him warm. He stands close, whispering private jokes or comments into Cas’ ear, making him shiver when the warm breath hits his neck. The low rumbling of Dean chuckling next to his ear tugs at something in Castiel’s heart. If Dean’s normally an affectionate guy, party mode Dean just cannot keep his hands to himself. Something about the setting just…  _ activates _ him, as if it was his job to make Cas feel comfortable because he knows the witch is completely out of his element in big gatherings. The fingers in Castiel’s hands are cold, buried in his pockets, but inside he feels good and for the shortest period of time he forgets about what’s to come, about the devil and his threats. All there is is laughter and jokes and silly conversations and his friends and music. Life with Dean is different, it’s just overall better, whatever they’re doing...

At some point, Dean tugs Castiel’s hands and whispers into his ear, “come with me, Cas.”

Without waiting for a response he starts pulling from his hand and guiding him away from the crowd and into the woods.

“Where are we going?” 

“Where we can be alone,” Dean responds, his voice hoarse but serene, peaceful. He looks back at his boyfriend over his shoulder and smiles at him. It’s a soft and rather tender look in contrast to how playful and loud he was before with his friends. He pulls Cas closer, his arm now around the witch’s waist, and continues to talk away from the party.

It’s absolutely quiet. It’s dark too, but Dean doesn’t wander beyond the point where the lights from the party show them the way. He suddenly stops, turns on his heels and pushes Castiel back against a tree, fisting the front of his winter jacket. Then, without warning, he kisses him, tongue quickly darting out to lick at his boyfriend’s lips, asking for permission to be let in. Cas gasps and pulls Dean closer by the loops of his jeans, tilting his head to the side and letting Dean ravage his mouth. He feels a span of desire run through him, especially low in his abdomen, and he lets Dean hold him in place and take what he wants. At some point they hear twigs breaking and a couple giggling as they hurry away. The boys barely spare them a quick glance in their direction before they’re back to business. Cas enjoys it thoroughly, even if deep down he wants more, even if he’s getting hard and they won’t do anything about it. It feels somewhat different to anything they’ve done before, like Dean’s finally careless with what he does. He’s comfortable, he’s stopped overthinking what they do and why they do it. He’s coming closer to the point where there won’t be doubts anymore and they will finally take the next step. Castiel realizes this and his heart fills with joy because Dean finally  _ really _ trusts him, he’s finally, truly forgiven Cas… and his mind… well, his mind is full of all the things he wants to try out with Dean once he’s given permission.

Dean breaks the kiss first. He rests his forehead against his boyfriend’s as they breathe in the same air. Castiel looks at him while Dean’s eyes are still closed. A smile pulls at Dean’s lips and Cas can’t help but smile too, feeling something tug at his heart. If there was ever a doubt in his mind that Dean was his soulmate, it’s gone now. 

Leaning back just enough to look at Cas in the eyes, Dean opens his eyes. They share a silent look for a moment. Dean takes a deep breath, as if to muster his courage, and Castiel freezes and waits, blushing in anticipation.

_ Is he going to say it? _

“Cas, I—”

Cas readies himself to hear it. He’s desperate to hear it and to say it back. Almost too eager to wait, he finds himself on the edge of interrupting Dean to say it first, if not at the same time.

But then Dean’s eyes leave Castiel’s and wander to the side, into the woods. He frowns and points towards the dark.

“What’s that?” he asks.

Trying to conceal his disappointment as best as he can, Cas swallows hard and turns his head in the direction of Dean’s finger. What he sees is neither what he expected nor wanted to see.

“Oh, no…”

“What?”

“That’s a will-o-wisps.”

As both of them look at the ball of green light that hovers in the night deep in the woods, Castiel pushes off the tree and gathers all his willpower, all his strength, waiting for something to strike or appear before them. He tries to sense it first but there’s no spirit, witch or any other sort of evil presence that he can feel getting close to them.

“A what?” Dean asks.

“It’s an omen of death, Dean,” Cas explains in a serious tone. He turns to his boyfriend and plans a hand on his shoulder. “Go back to the party, I’ll be right back.”

Before Cas can slip out of his grip, Dean grabs his wrist and pulls him close again.

“You’re not going alone, Cas.”

“Dean, I’ll be fine. I’m a witch, you’re human. It’s better if you go back and wait with the others.”

Cas tries to pull away but Dean’s grip is strong.

“I’m a hunter, Cas, I’m not going to leave you alone in the woods while I run back to safety. I’m going with you, end of discussion,” Dean states firmly before he starts towards the light.

Knowing it’s futile to try and change his mind, Cas hurries after him. He glances back in the direction of the party and when he realizes no one is watching or standing nearby, he lets hellfire erupt from his hands in preparation for a fight.

Once again though, what they find is not what they expected. Instead of coming face to face with an enemy, they find an unconscious boy floating a few feet in the air. Castiel lifts his hands trying to take a better look and finds blood dripping down from his head and, off the corner of his eye, a marking in the trees. 

Not far from where they’re standing, branches break as someone takes off running away from them. Cas starts towards the direction of the noise, only barely making out the silhouette of a dark figure hurrying into the darkness, but Dean stops him.

“Cas, wait, we need to help him!”

The witch hesitates. He can follow however is out there and bring a stop to everything right there and then. He can get answers and he can get justice. Or revenge. Or  _ both _ . 

Or he can help this person, save a life and spare a family more pain.

Frustrated but knowing it’s the right thing to do, he stays back and fixes his gaze once again in the poor, injured kid. He lets the hellfire die out too.

“How do we get him down?” Dean asks.

Castiel expects it to be hard, he expects some dark, powerful magic to bound the boy in place like a piece of meat for display but it’s surprisingly easy to get him down. It happens so quickly and unexpectedly, Castiel almost entirely drops him in the cold hard ground but between the two of them they manage to catch him and soften his fall.

With one hand Cas conjures the fire again to give them better light. He can’t quite see the injury but the blood is coming from the back of the boy’s head, hidden by his hair.

As they hear other people coming closer, Castiel puts the fire out. A group of boys descends upon them and Castiel is aggravated to see it’s Roman and his friends. Dick seems enraged and charges towards Cas immediately, throwing a punch that Cas is too slow to dodge. The full force of it lands over the right side of his face, knocking him to the ground. Cas hits the back of his head with something and is temporarily disorientated. He can hear Roman yelling at him, throwing accusations, saying something about his cousin. Dean tackles him and starts throwing punches too, maybe going a little too hard on him, letting out all his previous anger and frustrations on the guy. Dean delivers quick, merciless blows to his face but in no time Roman’s friends are on him. Outnumbered, he too receives quite the beating but quickly enough the commotion draws the attention of more people and their friends step in to break up the fight. 

It gets pretty messy and tense after that and sooner than later the cops show up. Castiel is looking forward to going home and talking to his brother, possibly even going back to the woods to try to track down whoever he saw, but instead he finds himself being escorted by police into one of their cars. Confused as to why he’s being put under custody, he tries to pull away at first but Dean, who is also being escorted by two cops, tells him to stop resisting and just go along with it.

“Take care of my baby!” Dean tells Charlie as he tosses the keys of the car in her direction before the police take them away.

Castiel turns on his seat to look at his friends gathered together, watching the car take them away with upset expressions on their faces. He can also see Dick Roman talking to one of the policemen. They seem pretty acquainted with each other and Cas doesn’t like that at all. It takes him a moment to realize it’s Fergus’ father and he knows right there and then he’s been taken away just because of who he is, because of his family’s name. Fergus’ father has been hitching to catch a Novak in the act for years and now his time has finally come.

The boys share a look as the policeman drives in silence. Cas wants to talk to him so badly but he cannot say a word in front of the mortals. He’s trembling with anger. This is unfair and stupid and a waste of time. He should be out there, either making sure the boy they found isn’t cursed or hurting the person that is hurting people. He’s trying to save this stupid town and this is what he gets in return?

When they get to the station, the cops pull over and leave them alone in the car for just a few seconds. In a haste, while they’re finally alone, Dean whispers, “don’t say  _ anything, _ Cas. Don’t answer  _ any _ questions, okay? Trust me, even if it seems like it’s going to help you, it’s better to keep your mouth shut.”

Castiel nods but he’s barely registering what he’s saying. His mind is elsewhere, back in the woods..

“Dean, I saw someone,” he whispers back. “I need to get back out there. I could try—”

“You need to take care of  _ yourself _ now, Cas. Don’t do anything stupid, don’t use your magic to get out. Just—just  _ trust _ me, okay? If you wanna live in the mortal world, you’ve got to play by its rules, man.”

Castiel wants to retort, to argue, to break free. They’re wasting time! But before he can say or do anything, the cop comes back and escorts them into the station. There, they get separated and put into different interrogation rooms. 

They make him wait, not long but long enough. Cas taps his foot in the ground anxiously until the lights start flickering above him and he has to tell himself to calm down. But how can he when the person who caused him and so many other people so much pain was right there, within his reach, and he let them slip through his fingers? Because it  _ has _ to be the same person which means they stayed in their little town all along, right under their noses. Someone posing as a mortal, just like them, living a normal life until the right time came. But what was so special now? What’s the point of the spell if the door to Hell is closed?

It couldn’t have been more than half an hour before the cop that Cas saw talking to Dick Roman walks into the room. Castiel knows right away that this guy is going to have his head full of Roman’s bullshit... which is partly Cas’ fault for cursing the mortal so many times.

“So… Castiel Novak… I’ve heard a lot about you,” the man says as he closes the door behind him.

Cas decides to play dumb and not give the man the pleasure of knowing he’s caused his family a lot of trouble.

“I can’t say the same about you, officer…?”

“MacLeod. The kids at school had a lot to tell me about you.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. He’s got no patience or time for this. “I bet Roman did..”

“Even before tonight, you know?” officer MacLeod tells him as he sits down in front of Cas with a calculating, cold look in his eyes. He doesn’t like Cas, it’s obvious right away. He probably thinks Castiel is guilty although the witch isn’t sure of  _ what _ he’s being accused, exactly. It could be anything, like being one of the queer kids in town or the whole weight that his family name carries. The police’s old suspicions of his father and brother seem to haunt even Cas to date. “Weird things always happen around your family…”

Castiel narrows his eyes at him ever so slightly but doesn’t respond.

“It couldn’t have been easy, growing up like you did… Your mom gone… She was a good woman. I knew her, you know? We went to the same school, ‘course I was older but I knew her… Then your daddy came and swept her off her feet. One day he just took off just as quickly as he came, now is nowhere to be found, leaving his only son all alone with that uncle of yours. Your daddy had a bit more class, I’ll give him that, but you uncle—”

“Don’t talk about my family,” he growls despite himself.

“All I’m saying is, I understand it was just a matter of time before you snapped.”

Cas lifts an eyebrow and remains silent, waiting for an explanation.

MacLeod sits back on his chair and studies him for a moment, trying to gauge how to break Cas. “Look, I know school can sometimes be…  _ rough. _ Boys will be boys, huh? Dick probably pissed you off a few times, right? So you know you can’t get back at him,” he gestures towards Cas, as if he were a weak child, “so you’ll hurt his family instead, right?”

“His family?”

“Jamie, his cousin. Has a big cut in the back of his head. He’s been rushed to the hospital. What did you hit him with, a branch?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Was it Dean, then?”

“No!”

“So it’s just a coincidence you two boys found the one innocent good kid that’s closest to your bully and he turns up bloody and unconscious?”

“Yes!”

Mccoy is about to ask something else when John Winchester busts through the door, his oldest son following him closely. Castiel’s never seem him like that, like he could murder someone or bring down chaos into the house of law enforcement himself. Like he’s about to bring Hell to whoever dared put his son in custody. There’s a rage about him that not even Cas, will all his powers, would challenge lightly.

“Cas, don’t say another word! We're leaving!” he orders him as he marches towards him. He boldly all but ignores MacLeod as the officer scowls at him for interrupting him. John grips his arm tightly and lifts a stunned Castiel to his feet. He turns to the cop, speaking over him with the confidence of a man who knows he’s right; he’s been in trouble before, plenty of times, so John Winchester knows his rights. “Are you pressing any charges? Do you have any evidence that the boys did anything to that kid?”

The cop silently sets his jaw and looks at John like there’s nothing more he’d like to do but get into a fist fight with the guy.

“I’ll take that as a no. Now if you excuse me, I’m taking my boys home right about now.” Then, pointing a finger at the guy’s face, he says in a low, threatening voice, “you want to talk to them again, you call my lawyer, you hear me?”

Speechless, Castiel follows John and Dean out of the room. Dean grabs his hand tightly as they leave, John marching in front of them with anger exuding from his body. Dean is tense, gripping Castiel’s hand with too much force. They get into the Impala, the boys on the back and John in the front. John sits for a moment behind the wheel while he calms down before driving. 

“Dad…” Dean starts. His voice is full of hesitation and fear. His hands are sweating. He’s waiting for John to explode, to yell at him, to unleash all his frustrations on him like he always used to, and Cas sits next to him hoping with all of his heart and soul that that won’t happen because it would destroy Dean and all they’ve worked for to mend their relationship. “Dad, I swear I didn’t do anything. We just—we just  _ found _ this kid. I  _ swear _ it wasn’t us.”

John turns around abruptly, eyebrows knitted together in a deep frown. As soon as he sees Dean’s face, the fear in his eyes, his father softens.

“I know,” he responds. His voice is still a little harsh, so he takes a deep breath and tries again, trying to convey that he is not, in fact, angry at him. “Dean, I never doubted you. You’ve done your fair share but I’d never think you’d  _ attack _ someone just because. Charlie came home and told me they brought you in right away, that it was unfair. Like a witch hunt.”

Castiel almost laughs at that.  _ Almost. _

“We just found the kid,” Dean continues to explain himself. “We were just trying to help him.”

John reaches out and touches his shoulder, squeezes it ever so slightly to get his son to calm down too, to trust that he’s really not mad at him.

“I  _ know _ . You’re  _ not _ in trouble, son.”

Dean smiles but it’s nervous and kind of forced. A part of him still waits for John to go off. Castiel squeezes his hand too, feeling Dean’s quick pulse running through his veins.

“Dad, do we even have a lawyer?” he asks out of the blue. 

John can’t help but laugh. “No, we don’t, but we will.”

“Thank you,” Castiel shyly interrupts their conversation. He feels the deepest gratitude towards his boyfriend’s father at the time, even if Cas secretly resented John for all he put Dean through, for not being the father Dean needed. But tonight he turned up, not just to take care of his own kid but Cas too. He called Cas  _ his boy _ too. “For—you know.”

“Of course, Cas. You’re family, kid. Besides, Dean would have never walked out of there without you.”

“That’s true,” Dean agrees, throwing an arm around Cas and holding him close. “I  _ told _ you not to talk to the cop, man.”

“What was I supposed to do, just stare at him?”

“Yes!” John and Dean respond at the same time, then look at each other and laugh. They’ve both had their fair share of run-ins with the law and it has finally come in handy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gifs:  
> doors: gorunwithsissors  
> Gabe: lyselkatzfandomluvs


	28. Chapter 28

The following morning, the Novaks and the Winchesters, accompanied by Charlie, go back to the woods to search for any clues that might help them in their investigation. 

Dean yawns loudly for the hundredth time and rubs his eyes with the back of his knuckles as he gets out of the car. He wishes he was at home, wrapped up in a blanket, sleeping... or maybe making out with Cas, he wouldn't mind waking up early for that. The last thing he wants is to go witch hunting with about four hours of sleep under his belt, he can barely open his eyes enough to drive, let alone look for clues in the dirty and mud, but duty calls. Having gone on a few short hunting trips during the winter holidays (nothing big, just a few ghosts that needed salting), he’s already learned hunting means not sleeping much. He tries to take it easy though, to brighten up the mood which is quite tense. To make Cas smile. 

His boyfriend has an ugly black eye and a grave expression on his face, his shoulders hunched forwards like a man carrying the weight of the world in them. Charlie looks like she wants nothing to do with their quest but reluctantly joins in because it's the right thing to do and because she has information she gathered last night that she knew could be of interest to them. Considering there was a lunatic out there hurting people, she figured the faster she updated the gang, the better. Gabriel doesn’t say much, which in and of itself is already a sign that something’s really bothering him. Dean figures he must be pissed off about having to get up early in the morning to save mortals once again, even though he never gets any gratitude in return. Not only that but his baby brother gets punched in the face and arrested for trying to help. And Sam… Sam is just way too eager and ready to save the world, like it is his duty or something. Dean doesn’t love that self-sacrificing attitude coming from his younger brother.

"Why that kid?" Gabriel asks as they make their way towards the spot where Dean and Cas found Jamie last night. When he speaks, his tone is bitter and resentful. "If he's related to the Romans, he can't be too good. Macleod, that asshole that took you in last night? I know him. He’s close to the Romans. He took one look at you and decided you were guilty. Him and his father gave us a lot of trouble back in the day. His father was the sheriff and he was so sure we were involved with the murders..."

Gabriel shakes his head and curls his hands into fists. Dean can’t help but feel sorry for him. He knows the witch is far from an innocent soul, but he’s not what some say he is and Dean cannot imagine having to live all his life with people whispering he’s a murderer behind his back. They have called Dean much less and it still sucked terribly, this must be so much worse. 

"I bet he is a virgin," Dean half jokes, half honestly suggests, once more attempting to lighten up the mood.

Sam lifts an eyebrow and gives him a bit of a reproving stare. "Based on what?"

"He was wearing a Star Trek T-shirt."

"So?"

"So I rest my case, Sammy."

Sam rolls his eyes at his brother and Dean grins.

“You’re a jerk.”

"But even if he were a virgin," Gabriel begins to argue, ignoring the brothers’ bickering, "if his soul was already on a path to Hell, if it had more darkness than light, it would not be good enough as sacrifice material for this kind of spell. Virgins are supposed to embody innocence and purity and all that jazz. If he's a virgin just because he's a nerd no one wants to fuck, that doesn't count. Excuse my language, kid."

“I’ve heard worse,” Sam shrugs.

"Actually, I heard he's really nice,” Charlie tells them, finally sharing what she managed to learn about Jamie last night. “Even Dick seemed genuinely worried about him. Everyone likes him. I heard he volunteers at the hospital, spending time with the patients."

"Okay, _that_ is what I call sacrifice material," Gabe nods.

"Is he going to be alright?" Sam asks.

"He's still in the ICU but he’s stable."

"How do you know?"

"We have Seir keeping tabs on him, just in case."

"There, look," Castiel indicates as he points towards a tree.

Everyone follows the direction he’s pointing at until they inevitably see symbols painted in red in a tree; blood, most likely. Jamie’s, they assume. The symbol has somehow degraded since the previous night although there was no rain, it’s not quite as perfect as Castiel had first seen it, as if it’s slowly but surely disappearing.

Gabriel sets his jaw. He looks ten years older. Through gritted teeth, he mutters, “dammit.”

Never a good sign.

“What does it mean?” Charlie asks although she sounds like she doesn’t want to know the answer.

Surprisingly, it’s Sam who answers. “Human or animal sacrifice.”

“Your knowledge of the occult sometimes worries me, Sammy,” Dean mumbles under his breath.

“Shut up, Dean.”

They all stare at it in silence for a moment, almost as if they could wish it away. 

Dean wonders what could have happened if they hadn’t been right there last night, at that same moment, to save Jamie. Would he be dead? Would they be back at the police station being charged for murder? They saved his life, that’s what matters, but a week from now it might be a different story.

“This doesn’t make sense though,” Gabe thinks out loud. He steps forwards, towards the tree, and plants his hand on the bark, right above the sigil. The symbol burns and disappears under Gabriel's touch, leaving only a burned scar on the surface of the tree. “Why would they leave the symbol in plain sight? It’s like they’re not even trying to hide. It wasn’t like this the last time, they tried very hard to go unnoticed for as long as possible. And now they’re attacking people right under your nose… that was bold.”

“They knew we’d try to save the kid instead of fighting,” Dean says.

Cas, whose first instinct was to run after the witch instead of staying back to help Jamie, averts his eyes in shame. Like a true satanist, his mind had been set in revenge and punishment; for his mother, for his father, for everyone that suffered because of this witch, for ruining their lives. He can deny what he is all he wants, but the magic inside of him, Satan’s gift, will always shed some darkness in his soul. Dean, on the other hand, hadn’t even hesitated.

“Yes but it’s almost as if they were taunting you. Like they _wanted_ you to see the sacrifice.”

“Maybe they do,” Cas suggests. “I don’t mean they wanted to be stopped… but maybe they want to provoke us.”

“Provoke you how?” Sam asks.

Castiel takes a deep breath and turns to face the group. He knows his idea isn’t going to sit well with them but he fears what is coming more than facing his friends. People’s lives are at stake once more. “I think we should open the door to Hell.”

Even Gabriel stares back at him with an incredulous look on his face. Dean’s hardens and his heart starts racing. This is not a discussion he wants to have again, he was all too happy to have moved past it. He almost wishes Cas were joking but with the way he’s avoiding meeting his eyes, he has to be serious about it. 

Maybe a little too harshly, Dean asks, “Cas, what the hell are you talking about?”

Cas is slightly hurt to hear an edge of aggression in Dean’s voice but not entirely surprised. After all, his mother died to close that door (as did Castiel’s) and it’s his duty to keep it that way. Not to mention they have argued about this before, almost ruined their relationship over the subject, and should the door be opened Dean would have to dedicate his life to guarding it.

“Whoever is doing this, they know us. They’ve had over a decade to watch and study us, to plot and plan. They’re coming and not for us, but those around us. What if _Charlie_ had wandered into the woods instead to make out with Gilda, huh?”

“Well, I ain’t no virgin, I think I’m safe,” she points out awkwardly, blushing a little as she puts her arms around herself.

“You’re practically a hunter, Charlie. You’ve been siding and congregating with the Men of Letters for months. Working for them, _with_ them. You’re witch hunting, for Satan’s— _God’s_ sake! You’re an enemy of the night.”

Castiel wants to grab her by the shoulders and shake her, force her to understand the gravity of the situation. If she wasn’t a potential target just by association to him, knowing about the occult, about witches and the Men of Letters, puts her and their friends at an even higher risk of being targeted. 

“They probably know us. Our families, our friends. We’ll be lucky if they come for our neighbours instead of us. Instead of _you_ ,” he gestures towards the three mortals, feeling his heart in his throat. He would die for the three of them, without hesitation, but he can’t be there every single hour of every single day to protect them. They’re in danger. “We’re at a disadvantage, we don’t know a lot more than Gabriel knew back in the day. We only know one thing; whoever this is, they’re killing in the name of one my brothers. We have to go to Hell, figure out who it is Satan is rooting for and stop _them_. And my father could help us.”

“If we open the door, it makes dad more vulnerable, Cas,” Gabriel, surprisingly argues. In normal circumstances, there’s nothing he’d want more but to open that door. However, if he has to gamble his father’s life for it, he will no doubt think twice about it. “As long as it’s closed, he won’t be sacrificed.”

“And if the doors are closed, we also kind of avoid an apocalypse,” Charlie mutters.

“How many others will die though? Last night, that was a threat. They will keep killing, whether we open it or not, for as long as it takes, and by then they will have enough murders under their belt that my father will be fresh meat as soon as we open the door. Dad is in Hell running in circles, trying to gather information not knowing he should be looking into his own sons. The sooner we open the door and get his help, the better. He can’t do it alone, he’s always been too soft with us, he’ll need our help to watch his back. We stop my brothers, we stop the killings. It’ll give us an advantage. Knowledge is power. We need to get ourselves ahead in this game.”

“It’s not a game, Cas!” Dean exclaims, emotions bursting out of him. He gets right into his boyfriend’s face and, before storming off, he concludes, “I have the key, I make the call. We’re not opening the door and we’re not having this conversation again!”

Sam gives Castiel a sympathetic look before hurrying to catch up with Dean. Even though he doesn’t want the door to Hell opened either, he also didn’t like the way Dean raised his voice at Cas. 

His older brother strides towards the car, leaving behind Charlie and the Novaks to do whatever they want with the information they have. The Novaks can give Charlie a ride home anyway.

“Dean, wait a minute!” Sam calls after him, jumping over a particularly big log as Dean reaches the car. He jumps into the passenger seat, afraid that Dean won’t hesitate to leave him behind if he’s not quick enough. “What the hell was that about you? You can’t yell at Cas like that, that’s not cool.”

Without saying a word, Dear starts the car and drives away. His thoughts are racing out of control, suspicions he thought he’d gotten over resurfacing. 

What are the odds a witch really stayed in that boring little town of theirs just to, _maybe_ , one day, reopen the door to Hell and cast that insane spell? No one could have predicted the Winchesters would return and the key was gone without them, it was impossible to open the portal. He doesn’t know much about witches but he’s learned enough to know they do not tend to live quiet, mortal lives, especially not evil ones like the one they’re supposed to be dealing with. They would have left, they would have returned to Hell if they could or killed someone else or done something evil that would have caught the Novaks’ attention a long time ago. They would want to plant chaos or get ahead using their magic, but no one in town fitted that profile.

“Dean, slow down! You’re gonna get us killed!” Sam protests when he sees the speed Dean’s going at. “What are you thinking? Why are you so mad?”

“Don’t you think it’s all a big frigging coincidence?”

“What is?”

Dean grips the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles go white. His heart is racing in his throat. He doesn’t want to say it, not aloud, afraid that it’ll become true if he voices his fears.

“Dean, _what_?” Sam insists impatiently.

“That now that Cas has me wrapped around his finger, with all that crap about us being soulmates, all of a sudden the attacks start again and he has this great plan to stop it, which includes opening the door to Hell.”

Sam is speechless, mouth hanging open and all. He stares at his brother like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. He watches his brother, his paled skin, his set jaw that cannot help but tremble, and he feels an enormous amount of pity towards him.

“Stop the car,” he says calmly. When Dean doesn’t react, he raises his voice. “Dean, stop the car!”

His brother finally complies and turns to face Sam when the car comes to a step on the side of the road. For a moment Dean thinks Sam is going to yell at him some more or punch him or something of the sort, but instead Sam throws his arms around him and gives him the biggest hug. Dean freezes, unsure of what is going on exactly.

After a brief, awkward silence, he whispers, “what’s happening?”

Sam pulls away and shakes his head at him. “Jesus, Dean… are you so messed up that it’s easier for you to think Cas has a long term plan to trick you into opening the door to Hell rather than you deserving true, healthy love for once in your life? Is that why you never asked him to confirm if it’s true, that you’re soulmates? Are you afraid that he’s going to say yes or that he’s going to say no?”

Dean wants to have an answer to that… but he doesn’t. He’s caught off guard by how easily Sam can read him and voice fears he had been trying to hide from himself. It is true that, since Castiel’s grandmother told him they’re soulmates, the little piece of gossip has been floating in his head, keeping him up at night wondering about it at times. Unable to keep such a thing to himself, he confided in his brother who made a very simple suggestion; why not ask Castiel for confirmation or an explanation? But Dean could never bring himself to ask. It was just… too much…

But if it was true… then _how_ could it be true? How could Cas be destined for him? How could Dean ever be good enough to deserve him? It’s too much pressure. Cas is special and not just in Dean’s eyes; he’s been hand-picked for greatness by a deity, for goodness’ sake. Cas could be immortal, live on forever, accomplish things they cannot even imagine while Dean… he’s just grateful he’s apparently going to be able to graduate high school after all, against all odds. The biggest accomplishment of his life will be buying a home, _if_ he ever gets to do that. Life’s going to be hard for a simple mortal like him. A _less_ than special person. It would be so unfair for Cas to be stuck with him forever just because someone said they should, although Dean doesn’t even know how it works, what or who determines they’d be a match made in heaven. Dean would feel this pressure, forever, to prove that he is worthy of Cas, to not waste his soulmates’ time and opportunities for more.

On the other hand, if Cas says it’s not true, that’d be pretty bloody awkward, especially because Dean desperately hopes that it _is_. However scary, it would be amazing too. To have Cas by his side, always, to have the promise and certainty that it’s all going to work out, would be a dream come true.

But then there’s another option too; that Castiel says they are soulmates but for it to be a lie. That would end him. Should Cas lie to him again, betray him like that, it would crush his soul and ruin his ability to trust anyone ever again. And Dean’s torn; if Cas says yes, would Dean believe him anyway? 

“Dean, your low self-esteem is making you act like an idiot,” Sam says in harsh words but his tone is concerned and firm. He means well, he tries to get through Dean’s thick skull and talk some sense into him. “He’s _not_ lying to you! We all see the way he looks at you, he’s in love with you! It’s so obvious, _you_ ’ _re_ the only dumbass who can’t see it. Look, if you don’t want to open the door to Hell, I support you. But Cas’ plan is not entirely senseless. He’s not trying to trick you, he’s trying to help.”

Sam exhales deeply and sits back, still shaking his head.

“I should be a psychologist,” he mutters, then points a finger at his brother and says, “and you should be in therapy.”

“Yeah, well, can’t afford it,” Dean retorts sarcastically… although it’s true, he may or may not have checked… out of curiosity…

“Dean,” Sam sighs, all but done with Dean’s overpowering lack of self-love, “just talk to Cas, will you? First, apologize. Secondly, ask him about the soulmates thing. You’re a damn liar if you try to tell me you don’t care again. You care so much you won’t even let me do research about it cause you’re afraid of what I’ll find.” 

“Okay, okay. Jeez. I get what you’re saying, Dr Phil.”

His brother rolls his eyes at him but a small, satisfied smile pulls at the corner of his lips; he knows he’s done it, finally put Dean into motion. 

Dean doesn’t talk to Cas right away though, he needs to stew on it first, that’s just how he works. He takes Sam home, they have lunch with John and then Dean has a long nap. He deserves as much, he figures. During the afternoon Sam convinces him to hit the bunker again and dig for spells they could use to catch the witch. Dean agrees, first because he doesn’t want his brother wandering alone in the streets with a crazy witch out there just waiting for the right time to strike again, and secondly because he also wants something to distract him from thinking about Cas all the time. They spend hours but find nothing they can use. All they know is it takes a really powerful witch to hide from another one, even more so when performing magic as dark as this one which usually leaves a trail. If the Novaks don’t have something to go up against a witch like that, Dean’s not sure they will. 

On Sunday, Dean finally finds himself marching towards the Novaks’ house. Seir sees him coming and flies off to alert Cas. The witch comes out to meet him at the door, looking adorable with a rather big sweater and slippers. He seems somewhat tense as he sees Dean walking in his direction and the mortal cannot help but avert his eyes in shame, knowing it’s his fault Castiel feels nervous to see him. As he walks up the steps to the front door, Dean looks up to him and gives him a tentative smile that Cas is too happy to return.

“Hello, Dean,” he greets him, opening the door to let him in.

Dean comes right in like he’s home. “Heya, Cas… can we talk?”

“Of course… Let’s go upstairs.”

The house is quiet, which probably means Gabriel’s not there, but Dean still has that feeling that it’s very much alive. There’s just a presence about it, like it’s got a mind of its own. It used to freak him out, especially when he stayed the night when they started dating, but now he’s grown used to it.

Once they’re in his room, Castiel closes the door behind him and takes a seat in the chair by his desk, waiting for Dean to say what he has to say. Dean remains on his feet, fidgeting nervously with the hem of his jacket. He wants to bail but Sam would never let him hear the end of it. He has to face his emotions and put them out there in the open, he has to be honest with Cas. He’s never done this with anyone before, at least not someone he had feelings for, and it’s a brand new terrifying experience… but he has been through so much worse and survived it, so he knows he can do this one thing. It definitely helps when Cas gives him this patient little smile that just makes him hope that everything will be alright, that Sam is right and all his doubts are just irrational fears he’s holding onto.

“I wanted to say… I’m sorry. For yelling at you. That wasn’t cool. That’s not the type of boyfriend I wanna be.”

More easily than Dean had imagined it in his head, Castiel simply nods and accepts the apology. “Thank you, I appreciate that. I can’t say that I liked you raising your voice at me.”

“I really am sorry, Cas. It’s just that you wanting to open the door—it sent me back, man, to that day…” Cas jumps to say something, to apologize again, to explain something, but Dean holds a hand up and hastily adds, “we’ve been over this before. I know you’re sorry, Cas, and I know in the end you chose not to take the key from me but the truth is you were planning that from the beginning. You easily tricked me, Cas. Somewhere down the road, for some amazing reason, you really did start to like me but—but I’m not good at this, okay? I’m not used to getting good things so I can’t help but be a little suspicious, dude. I have the house, I have my dad being an actual dad, I have friends, I’m not doing totally terrible at school either… It's just hard for me to accept good things can happen. To _me_ . It’s hard for me to wrap my head around you _actually_ liking me.”

Cas takes it all in and thinks about it for a second, before slowly saying, mostly to himself, “so… so you think I was trying to trick you. Into opening the door. Again.”

The expression in Castiel’s face changes, from understanding to sadness and it breaks Dean’s heart to see it. To cause it. Castiel would probably disagree and blame himself for being the one that lied to Dean in the first place and planted the seed of doubt in his mind, but Dean knows this time around it’s on him, on his deep-rooted trust issues. Castiel has spent months showing he’s a good and loyal friend, if not partner, he has redeemed himself. It’s time for Dean to grow too.

Dean kneels in front of Cas and grabs his hands, drawing circles with his thumb to comfort his boyfriend.

“Cas, I still disagree with you. I’m not gonna open the door, I think it’s risky and as much as I love the bunker and I like hunting, I’m not ready to commit to it _forever_. But I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that and I shouldn't have doubted you. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just—I have to know, man... Is it true? That we’re soulmates. Is it true?”

Dean had imagined a dozen different scenarios in which Cas responded to his question but in none of them he imagined he’d blush as profusely as he is now. His cheeks burn a hot red and his lips part. Eyes wide like the moon, they look down at Dean in surprise.

“How—how do you know about that?”

“Your grandmother told me. A while back. When Gabriel took the key and you both passed out.”

Castiel gasps, mentally counting how long it’s been since then, how long Dean’s kept this to himself. “You knew all this time and you didn’t say anything? Why?”

“Cause I didn’t know if it was true or not!”

Narrowing his eyes at him, finally knowing him well enough to hear the things Dean won’t say, Cas suggests, “because you didn’t think it could be true for you to deserve a soulmate? Deserve _me_?”

Dean’s silence and his guilty expression is all the answer Cas needs. The witch rolls his eyes at him exasperated and points out, “Dean, if anyone should be thankful to deserve the other, it’s me! Do you know why we’re soulmates?”

“No and honestly I’m dying to know,” Dean confesses with a nervous chuckle and a boyish eagerness about him.

Cas tries to fight a smile but Dean’s silliness gets to him. He leans forwards with his forearms in his legs to level with Dean. 

“Every dark soul, even Satan, has a human soulmate. Some even have more than one, as we live very long lives. Soulmates are God’s attempt to, let’s say, seduce us back into the light. They ground us, they make us more human. When we find our soulmates, Satan will give us a sign. A _warning_. For me, it happened when I kissed you for the first time, in the closet. I had visions of us, of our future together. It was Satan’s way of telling me to stop before we got too close. Funny enough, the second time I had a vision was when I was about to betray you. You know what I’m talking about…”

“When you almost took the key from me while we were making out and freaked out?”

Castiel nods, embarrassed by his actions. “I don’t think that was Satan then. I think… I think that was God. Or maybe an angel? It doesn’t matter, the point is I know it was a warning that if I took the key, if I betrayed you then and there, I would lose you. And that stopped me, even then, when we were still getting to know each other. I didn’t want to hurt you. So you see, Dean, _you_ are the good one here. You are supposed to save me from my dark side. You make me want to be better. You’re so… _amazing_ , that a simple kiss from you can ruin the devil’s entire plans for me. You saved _me_ , from myself.”

Blushing like a schoolgirl, Dean does nothing but stare back at Cas, struggling to find smart words to form a response. He still cannot fathom what on Earth makes him so special. Why him and not some other kid. Why not just his friends could keep him from going dark side.

“You realize it’s going to be a lot of work, right? Us, I mean.” Dean, stupidly, argues because even though he is more than happy to accept Castiel is his soulmate, he still thinks the witch could do better. He doesn’t have to settle, they’re still young. “I’m broke. I probably do not have an amazing future ahead of me. And I’m—I’m a mess, Cas. You can do so much better.”

Shaking his head slowly, absolutely certain of what he says, Cas responds, “it’s not going to be hard at all, Dean.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I told you, I’ve seen it… Would you like me to show you?”

Dean’s eager nodding endears his boyfriend, who cannot help but chuckle and give Dean a loving look that has his heart skipping a bit. Cas moves his hands so that the tip of his fingers touch Dean’s temple at either side and he closes his eyes, indicating Dean to do the same.

As soon as their eyes are closed, Dean starts to see it, a snippet of the future they could have together.

_Dean walks the hallways of the university in full firefighter uniform. He knows the layout of the building like the palm of his hand, has walked the corridors a hundred times on his way to his husband’s office. It’s Tuesday, 12.30 pm, and that means he gets to have lunch with Cas._

_A handful of students, young women and men alike, turn their heads and stare. Dean is a sight to behold. Tall, with a vibrant look in his eyes and an easy smile. He’s gorgeous and he knows it. He walks with confidence, light on his feet, peace in his heart. He winks playfully at a group of girls who just cannot take their eyes off of him, even though everyone knows him as Dr Novak’s husband. He’s a tease but nothing more, anyone who knows Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak they are heads over heels in love with each other._

_When Dean gets to Castiel’s office he finds him, as usual, buried behind a pile of books—old and smelly and about the occult, just like Cas likes them. Gone are his days as a witch but his love for research and teaching keeps him in contact with all things magic._

_“I’m almost done, I promise!”_

_With his tongue slightly sticking out between his lips, he hurries to scribble something in his notebook while he haunches forwards over a book in an almost protective manner. Dean laughs and takes the book away from him, leaving it on the window sill, away from his husband’s research._

_“Time for lunch, babe,” Dean declares._

_He puts down the takeout bag he’s carrying in Castiel’s desk, over the books. Cas quickly grabs the bag and puts his precious books away, looking at Dean like he’s almost offended that he put food over them._

_“Not over the books, Dean!”_

_“Well, then make space for me, dude. I can’t even sit down.”_

_Dean gestures towards the chairs, which are also full of books, and lifts an eyebrow. Cas, sassy as he has become, leans back on his chair and gives Dean a lewd stare, patting his thighs twice before saying, “I’ve got space for your right here.”_

_“Oh, yeah?” Dean chuckles as he all too gladly sits on his husband’s lap._

_Cas bites his lower lip and nods, wrapping his arms around Dean and cupping his ass to bring him closer while he leans forwards to kiss him._

_“Well, lucky for you,” Dean whispers when their lips are but inches apart, “there’s nowhere else I’d rather sit.”_

_It’s been a busy week for both. Restoring their new house, Cas grading papers like crazy during finals season, Dean having to cover emergency calls at the station, helping Sam with his newborn baby plus a very jealous four years old who hasn't wrapped his head around not being an only child anymore… It’s only been a few days since they were last able to stop, relax and play with each other but for them that still seems like too damn long._

_Castiel captures his husband’s lips in a hungry kiss, pulling from his jacket to bring him closer, licking into his mouth, biting his lips, playing roughly with him, just the way Dean likes it. It’s not the time, it’s not the place but he cannot help the growing bulge in his pants as Dean’s ass puts pressure on his crotch. He cannot be sorry about it at all either, he welcomes it, rolling his hips slightly so that Dean can feel him getting hard if he hadn’t noticed already._

_Dean grins into the kiss and against Castiel’s lips he whispers, “hard for me already, Cas? I didn’t even give you a lap dance yet.”_

_He starts to playfully sway in his husband’s lap while he pretends to take off his jacket in a sexy way. Cas is a sucker for the firefighter uniform and Dean will never not exploit that._

_“It’s been too long.”_

_Dean snorts and throws his head back to laugh. “It’s been 6 days!”_

_“It’s been too long,” Cas, dead serious, simply repeats before bringing him in for another kiss._

_Just as things start to get interest, the door to the office flings open. Dean jumps off his husband's lap, awkwardly turning away from the door to hide the erection that is clearly noticeable in his pants, and prays to God or whoever is out there listening that it’s not a student, or worse, the head of Castiel’s department. Cas quickly slides his chair towards the desk to hide his lower body as well._

_“Jesus, guys, in the office? Really?” a tired-looking Sam groans as he walks into the office._

_“We were not expecting company,” Dean retorts, trying to keep his voice stable but any sense of authority dies with his blushing cheeks._

_“Oh, well, I guess you don’t want the adoption papers asap, then?” his brother lightheartedly bickers with him as he lets a stack of papers drop in Castiel’s desk._

_Dean turns on his heels and jumps over the papers, enthusiastically scanning through them like a child presented with an exciting gift. There’s a lot to fill out but that’s one tedious, long ass task he can get behind with any day._

_“Thank you, Sam, we’ll fill them out this weekend,” Castiel tells him. He runs a hand up and down Dean’s back as they share a tender glance with each other._

_“Okay. Send them back to me when you’re done, I’ll make sure everything’s in order before sending them to the agency.”_

_“Thank you, Sasquatch.”_

_Looking at Dean and Cas flicking through the pages like they cannot wait to start doing the paperwork, to get their kid, Sam can’t help but smile. “You’re welcome.”_

__

_“Are you staying for lunch?”_

_“No, I’ve gotta get back home. See you guys later.”_

_After saying their goodbyes, Dean sits in Cas’ lap again, sideways this time. The adoption papers are still in his hands. He can’t let go of them, he’s too excited._

_“Look at us, adulting successfully,” he jokes but his smile is bright and genuine. “Building our own home, starting a family, having decent jobs…”_

_“17 years old you would be very impressed.”_

_Castiel puts his arms around his husband and plants a chaste kiss on his cheek. Dean’s come a long way from that insecure young boy who didn’t think he would accomplish a single good thing and Cas is happy he was there to watch him grow into the happy man he is now._

_“He would be,” Dean agrees and then, turning towards Cas with that fire in his eyes again, he whispers, “especially cause I married such a hot piece of ass.”_

_Dean puts the adoption papers in the desk and dives in for another kiss. His hands touch everywhere they can, feeling the firm muscles under Cas’ shirt while he makes a beeline with his mouth for the other’s neck. He bites and licks the spot that makes Cas shiver and moan every damn time, loving how well he knows how to push his husband’s buttons…_

And then Cas pulls his hands away and leans back on his chair.

Dean’s hands grab nothing but air where a second ago he could have sworn he felt warm skin. His lips are parted, he’s holding his breath. As soon as his eyes open and unwillingly welcome reality, he exhales sharply.

“Well, that—” He clears his throat when he finds it way deeper and hoarse than intended, and tries again. “That was… pretty hot. And sweet too! But… pretty hot.”

“You do age well, Dean,” Cas nods in agreement.

“So do you, babe.”

Without a second thought to it, Dean lounges forwards, lips clashing into Castiel’s as he sits in his lap just like he saw in his dream. Dean cups his face and slips his tongue in between Castiel’s parted lips, relishing in the stunned little gasp that comes out of his mouth. Cas holds his hands in the air, too slow to react, too eager to touch more than he should. Dean grabs his wrists and leads his hands to cup his ass, like future Cas did. He doesn’t miss the way his boyfriend tenses up.

“It’s okay,” he whispers without moving away, “you can touch me, Cas. It’s okay. I’m ready.”

“We don’t have to—”

“I _want_ to. I want you.”

With Dean’s final, glorious and very much anticipated consent, Castiel picks him up in his arms, supernaturally strong hands grabbing the back of Dean’s thighs to hold him. He can’t help but grin at the little squeal that comes out of Dean as he locks his legs around Cas’ waist and throws his arms around his neck. With just two short steps, Cas is dropping him down on the bed, wasting no time to pin him down and kiss him all over, his lips trailing down stomach as he lifts his shirt. Dean unceremoniously takes it off in a rush while Cas kneels between his legs, hands on his belt about to open it. He stops to give Dean one last questioning look, giving him the chance to back down if he wants. Castiel wouldn’t be mad, he would never hold it against him, which is exactly why Dean nods encouragingly; he feels safe, he feels loved. It’s the right time and the right person, for once.

“I trust you,” Dean tells him and that was all Cas needed to hear.

They undress each other in a bit of a hurry, impatient to feel the warmth and softness of skin on skin, stealing kisses where they can as their hands explore each other’s bodies, mapping them. Castiel and Dean smile nervously at one another, they hug and roll in the sheets. In their eagerness their movements are clumsy at times but it’s all also really intimate. They blush, they whisper words of praise. Cas has no idea what he’s doing but it feels good, it feels _right_ , while Dean feels like a virgin all over again because he’s never done this with someone who mattered so much to him. They touch and take and give and moan into each other’s ears. When Cas is finally inside him, he takes it slow even though Dean has done much rougher things. Cas doesn’t treat him like he’s made of glass but like he’s something precious, something that deserves time and devotion and gentleness and Dean loves it so they take their time. 

When it’s over, they rest in bed with their bodies completely pressed against each other and their limbs entangled with one another. Then they do it again, to _practise_ , like Dean says with a smirk. After Cas makes sure about a dozen times that Dean is physically and emotionally okay, Dean finally leaves to have dinner with his family. He smiles the entire way home, enjoying the present, even though in the back of his mind he knows this teenage fairy tale won’t last long; there will be another sacrifice attempt in five days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gif sources:  
> Gabriel: astralgabriel (awesome blog guys)  
> Hands: gajo1987 (great gif source)  
> Sam: out-in-the-open
> 
> Look at my boys talking about their feelings :')


	29. Chapter 29

Gabriel and Cas really try to keep the town safe. The witches and their familiars patrol the streets all night looking for a sign, for someone suspicious,  _ anything _ that can look like trouble or any little spark of witchcraft they might pick up on. Maybe if they’re close enough, the witch won’t be able to hide as flawlessly. The Winchesters try to find out who the witch could be through the old fashion way; research. They check the records of the family trees of everyone in town and do a thorough investigation on anyone who joined the community without having previous family ties, a detailed search that covers a period of time going a few before the first attacks even happened.

But they fail, they all fail and turn up empty handed. 

On Saturday early morning Benny calls all of them to tell them the sad news; Annie, the best friend of Benny’s mom, fell down the stairs the previous night and broke her neck. His mother is inconsolable. He overhears his mother crying and telling her husband that her friend had recently found out she was pregnant. As she had suffered miscarriages before she hadn’t told a lot of people, but a best friend always knows.

The grim news has everyone worried sick. Castiel doesn’t like to be right, he hopes it’s just a coincidence that the victim strikes close to home, but he doesn’t think so. It unnerves him to think one of his closest friends has such a close connection to one of the victims. 

They all go to the funeral. Dean borrows a pair of decent slacks from Cas, he has nothing that is nice enough for a funeral and he wants to pay his respects since it weighs on him that this death is, partly, his fault. It was his duty, as a Campbell, as a Men of Letters, to stop it and he didn’t. It was his choice to let the door remain close and not ask for help from Castiel’s father. He was supposed to find another way to save people, to justify his decision, and he failed. They all tried to dig for something useful in the bunker’s collection of books, a spell to catch the witch, but even with all of them doing endless study sessions in the library their search turned up nothing useful.

Charlie holds Dean’s hand during the eulogies. Dean doesn’t dare look anyone in the eyes. Cas stews on his guilt too, biting his tongue to avoid arguing with Dean but deep down he wants to insist in opening the door to Hell and get to the bottom of this whole business at once. Fight the root cause of the problem, not his sibling’s earthly bitch. He has called upon his father for help from afar but so far Charles has no useful updates. He hasn’t got a clue who is to blame for the uprising that is unsettling things down in Hell. Cas wants to tell him to look into one of his own kids but Gabriel advises him against it, arguing that Charles will probably (and foolishly) simply try to convince his children to show mercy to the humans while putting himself in danger when revealing he knows too much. Gabriel knows his siblings well enough to know neither Raphael, Michael or Lucifer are too fond of mortals. They couldn't care less what happens to them. Hell, Gabriel didn’t either until he was forced to live among them for so long. And if Satan himself supports the traitor, they will be riding a high horse thinking everything they do is justified and probably something to do with their destiny (“everyone in Hell always wants to have a great destiny,” Gabriel had told him while he rolled his eyes). Whichever of his brothers is the killer, they will be relishing in the thought that they have been ‘chosen’... only as Satan’s second option, but still.

After the funeral, Benny goes home to be there for his mom but the rest of the gang, including Sam, returns to the bunker in a desperate attempt to find something that will give them some sort of advantage. Dean barely stops to eat all day. Cas tries to get him to go home but Dean refuses. He offers Cas to drive him home but his boyfriend won’t leave him alone when he’s down. In the end, Castiel ends up falling asleep on a couch with a book in his lap.

That’s the first time Castiel dreams of Death. At first his dreams are normal, silly and creative things his mind makes up but at some point there’s a twist, a palpable change in the atmosphere. He senses a presence and becomes tense. He’s in the woods which seem to get darker and darker, as if the night was coming for him at a rapid pace. He gets the impulse to run and follows it out of instinct. He runs home as fast as his legs will move and for as long as his lungs will allow him, somehow knowing which way is the right way despite the absence of light. Behind him, he hears a voice calling him. As he reaches the edge of the woods, he dares to look back over his shoulder but instantly regrets it the moment he sees the dark and tall faceless figure under a black cloak following him, scythe and all. He doesn’t need to stop and ask who that is, he would recognise Death anywhere. Without having to ask, somehow he knows Death is there for him and he does not like that at all, he’s not ashamed to admit he’s not as recklessly brave as he could be in other situations. Satan he could try and face but Death… Death comes for everyone; mortals, witches, demons, even gods. One can try to delay it but never stop it.

Death calls him. Hearing his name whispered by lips he cannot see chill Castiel’s bones and blood and he bolts again towards his house. Somehow, if he gets inside, he just knows it’ll all be alright. He runs like his life depends on it, so disturbed that he cannot stop and realize he’s dreaming. 

Darkness follows him just as quickly as Death does. He doesn’t look back but he can  _ feel _ it getting closer, like it’s one step behind him trying to grab his ankles. He fights the urge to take a peak over his shoulder, knowing in his heart that if he does, he’ll get caught. 

The door of his house opens, welcoming him in, cheering him without words. Practically feeling Death’s bony hand on his shoulder, Cas jumps the steps of the porch and all but throws himself inside. He wakes up gasping for air as he sits up, the book on his lap falling over and landing loudly on the floor. Dean, who has fallen asleep on his chair, jumps off his skin, nearly having a heart attack for being woken up so abruptly.

Sleepy and confused, Dean looks around until his half-opened eyes land on Cas. His boyfriend is breathing fast, chest heaving. Sweat trails down from his messy dark hair, down his temples, to his chin. Despite feeling heavy with exhaustion, Dean forces himself off the chair and walks over to him, sitting down next to him on the couch.

“You okay?” he asks while he puts an arm around Castiel’s shoulders. He can barely form a coherent thought but Cas seems so upset he tries hard to focus.

Castiel’s hands are trembling. He looks down and turns them around, checking himself. For what, he isn’t sure. For any sign that it wasn’t a dream? For injuries? He doesn’t know. He likes that he doesn’t find anything out of the ordinary but the nightmare leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Nightmares are usually not just nightmares with him.

“Cas, sweetheart?” Now concerned, Dean squeezes his shoulder. It reminds Castiel of Death trying to catch him and he leans away from his boyfriend’s touch.

“I’m—I’m fine,” Cas mutters.

“Dude, you’re shaking.”

“I just had a nightmare.”

“What time is it anyway?”

Dean squints his eyes while he checks his wrist watch. He whistles tiredly and runs a hand down his face.

“It’s 3 am, man.”

“The witching hour,” Castiel whispers to himself in a grim tone.

“I am in no shape to drive… Let’s go crash in one of the bedrooms. Come on, weirdo, I’ll protect you from your nightmares.”

Dean practically has to drag Castiel away. They settle in one of the small bedrooms, leaving their clothes on as they lay on top of old mattresses and covers. This room has been used before so it’s not nearly as dusty as others, it will do for the night. The heating in the bunker makes the temperature just right so they won’t be getting cold but just for comfort Dean throws their jackets over them as a makeshift blanket.

With the lights off, Dean spoons Cas at first but the witch quickly turns around to face his boyfriend and holds him close to his chest.

“Alright, I’m not gonna say no to being the little spoon,” Dean jokes. Cas can barely understand him as he drags his words. Dean almost immediately falls asleep again what with his wonderful ability to sleep right about anywhere at any given moment.

Castiel, on the other hand, can’t and doesn’t want to go back to sleep. He fights the need to close his eyes, instead desperately focusing on how it feels to hold Dean, the warmth coming from his body, the feeling of his flesh under Castiel’s hands, the fabric of his shirt, the sound of his even breathing. His presence. Cas is afraid of falling asleep and being unable to feel Dean with him. He’s afraid to let go.

He’s not sure for how long he’s awake but when he’s certain that the witching hour, that time of the night where magic is stronger and it is easier for any being to connect with him, has passed, he finally succumbs and sleeps a few hours.

When Dean asks him about his nightmare the next day, Castiel lies about it and says he cannot remember. On the one hand he doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t even want to think about it himself. On the other hand, he rather not worry Dean, they all already have got too much on their plates.

As the weekend looms over them, the group starts to panic. They are no closer to figuring out who is behind the sacrifices or a way to catch them. Sam and Charlie actually pretend to be sick and skip school to keep desperately researching the books and archives of the bunker, to no avail. Dean stays the night at Castiel’s and they spend the entire time going through books of incantations but they also come up short as well. The Novaks’ books are definitely darker in motive and content than the books in the Men of Letters, Dean comes across all sorts of disturbing spells and images going through the pages of their ancient collections, so he doesn’t really expect to find something that will help them  _ catch _ a witch.

As the offensive mode is failing, Gabriel turns into defensive mode instead. If they can’t attack, they need to protect themselves and whoever else they can, starting with the Winchesters and their little gang of honorary hunters. 

“First of all, we need to protect you,” Gabriel explains one evening after school. Everyone has gathered at the Novaks’ under Gabe’s invitation. Kali’s not there that night but Cas knows that his brother has already put in place any necessary measurements to protect her. Gesturing towards Sam and Dean, he emphasizes, “especially the two of you. You’re original Men of Letters bloodlines, you are great sacrifice material. Sammy here gets extra points for being a virgin, unfortunately. We’ve got to keep you safe.”

Gabe means fucking business. Cas has never seen him so focused before, trying so very hard to protect people.  _ Mortals _ . He did make a real effort in trying to get the door to Hell open in the past, but with the years he began to live quite the ordinary life in between the attempts of going back home and researching. Now, his whole attention is being thrown into this: saving people. He won’t say it but Cas knows it weighs on him that people are dying  _ again _ , probably blames himself for not having caught the witch the first time around.

The oldest Novak gives the two brothers two very powerful talismans for protection, one for each,  _ plus _ puppets he made of them that he wants them to put under their beds, to deflect possible dark magic aimed at them. He also gives Castiel’s friends talismans but Cas can tell they’re not as strong, Gabe kept the most powerful ones for the Winchesters. Castiel doesn’t make any comments while he watches the situation unfold but knows those are very old and precious dark magic items, heirlooms of their family that Gabriel is willingly giving out to mortals he owes nothing to. In that moment, he could not be prouder or more thankful. 

“This will give you an advantage but they will not totally protect you from a very powerful witch. If this  _ bitch  _ is evoking one of my brother’s powers, trust me when I say it’s going to take more than a talisman to save you…  _ but  _ it’ll give you time to ask for help. Now, I have these too.”

Then he starts handing out small pocket mirrors.

“If you’re in danger or in need of immediate help, use the mirror. I have bewitched them to be connected with each other. If you call for help, we’ll all receive it. But beware of breaking a magic mirror cause it really does give you 7 years of bad luck so, you know, be careful.”

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up and he instantly stops playing around with the item to safely put it away in his pocket. He’s had enough years of bad luck, thank you very much...

“Now, you are all going to cast the same protection spell Dean has at home. Benny and Charlie, yours isn’t going to be as strong as Dean’s because you have no magic in your blood.”

Dean lifts an eyebrow, completely perplexed. “And I do?”

“Just a hint, but yes, you do. It’s a Men of Letters thing… Anyway, the spell won’t keep you safe from a physical attack—I think we all remember the Campbells were butchered in their beds, but I think we’re safe; only an idiot would break into a house full of werewolves, Charlie and Benny have alarm systems and John is  _ not _ sacrifice material—sorry, boys,” Gabriel gives them an apologetic smile but Dean shrugs, completely relaxed as he sits back in the couch and listens. Who would have thought that John being a complete mess would come in handy one day?

He dismisses Gabriel’s concern with a lazy wave of his hand. “No offence taken. Hey, finally my dad being trash pays off,  _ that’s _ new.”

“Dean,” Sam scolds him but he doesn't really argue much.

“Now, I’ve got an idea but I will need your help, especially yours, Cas. I have seen bad omens around town—”

“Like what?” Garth asks out of curiosity.

“Well, the Milton’s got a dead cedar tree in their front yard.”

In a small voice, like a kid who’s ashamed of not knowing something very obvious in class, Charlie whispers, “and that’s bad?” 

Gabriel whistles and shakes his head. “It’s terrible.”

“It’s quite serious,” Castiel agrees somberly. “It’s an omen of death. We should look into it—”

Gabe holds a hand up to interrupt him and says, “already taken care of. I also overheard the Masters have deathwatch beetles in their home, which yes, it’s bad, Charlie,” Gabe gets ahead of her before she has a chance to ask, “and, yes, Cas, I’ve taken care of that too. But that’s just it, there are just too many people to protect, too many omens we don’t know about. I cannot get to all of them in time and I cannot cast spells strong enough to protect them from afar for long periods of time. With my history with police in this town, I am  _ not _ breaking into their homes to do witchcraft. And we’re certainly more people than we were back in the day but we’re still not enough. We need more eyes.”

“What are you suggesting? Telling more people what we are?” Castiel asks, making it clear with this tone that he already dislikes the idea.

But Gabriel shakes his head. “No, that’d be too complicated. We’re doing something way more fun, kids,” he says with a dramatic grin while he wiggles his eyebrows, “we’re raising the dead tonight!”

It’s almost 3 a.m., the witching hour is about to start. Charlie, wearing nothing but her underwear, lays face down on the cold concrete, trying not to shake as Castiel paints symbols on her back. The many candles that surround her provide some source of heat but not nearly enough. Thankfully, Cas has done the front already and he’s almost finished with the back.

It’s only the two of them inside the mausoleum. Outside, the rest of the group waits patiently for them to come out. Sam is starting to drift off sitting on the ground against the outer wall with his head leaning on Dean’s shoulder. Benny glances around somewhat nervous; he’s not by any means a coward but it’s quite creepy out there in the cemetery in the middle of the night. Garth, what with his enhanced vision, seems to be as cool as a cucumber while Gabriel… Gabe belongs to the night, he stands around proud and alert, more awake than during the day, just waiting for the action.

Charlie sighs for the hundredth time. “Explain to me once again why it has to be me?”

“Ghosts are…  _ tricky _ . Unstable. They should not be disturbed from their resting place. We want to make sure that we conjure them with, as Dean likes to say, ‘positive vibes’,” the use of his air quotes makes her smile, if only for a few seconds, “and nothing but good intentions to avoid corrupting them and ultimately preventing them for being able to ascend to Heaven once more, when this is all over. You happen to have the purest soul out of all of us so you’ll be the one to wake them up.”

“How is Garth not the purest?”

“He’s a werewolf. He belongs to the night, Charlie.”

“And Sam?”

Castiel looks in the direction of the door over his shoulder, making sure no one’s overhearing them, then back down at her. Keeping his voice down, he explains, “Sam is a great kid… but he’s got a lot of anger in him. Not exactly what you’d want to channel through to a ghost.”

“Oh, man…”

“I’m done,” Cas announces, putting the pencil down at last.

Charlie sits up carefully, putting her arms around herself both to cover her body from view and chasing her own warmth too. She’s careful though; the last thing she wants is to ruin the symbols and spend another hour correcting them. Cas pointedly averts his eyes to give her some sense of privacy but extends his hand towards her.

“Give me your hand.”

Without questioning it, she grabs his hand. Almost instantly she feels a pleasant wave of warmth run up her arm, down her shoulder, melting on its way down her body. It’s like feeling the rays of sunshine kissing her skin in the dead of night.

“Thanks.”

“I’m really sorry about all of this, Charlie. Now you see why I never told you what I am. I wanted to keep you safe, out of this.”

“I have an old ass talisman, dude, I’m safer than ever.”

He shakes his head though, always critical of how she downplays the seriousness of the situation. Cas doesn’t understand how she manages to stay so positive all the time, he envies that about her. “You’re a hunter by association, that will always put you in danger.”

“Well, that’s actually kind of  _ Dean’s _ fault so…”

She giggles but Cas doesn’t, he remains serious and gloomy, so she punches him in the shoulder, causing Cas to meet her eyes as he frowns and groans.

“Cas, I’m glad I know! It’s cool as fuck to have a witch best friend, dude. And I’m glad I can help. I just wish I could have kept my pants on, you know?”

“Yes, sorry about that… your lack of clothing is a symbol of vulnerability, welcoming the dead with no hidden intentions.”

“Goddamn symbolism…”

“Magic is full of it. Shall we?”

“Let’s do this, let’s raise the dead, bitches.”

Once they’re ready, they call the rest of the boys and Gabriel to join them inside the packed little room. The two friends carefully position themselves in the centre of a pentagram of salt, moving the candles around so that they’re surrounded by them. They sit on the ground facing each other with their legs crossed. Charlie grabs the bowl that has all the ingredients inside, including her own blood, and Cas puts his hands over hers. The others stand outside the pentagram, holding hands as well.

“Back straight, eyes closed,” Cas indicates in a soothing voice. Charlie obeys his every word. She’s getting nervous but she tries to clear her mind and remain focused. She trusts Cas to guide her and protect her, to keep her from harm. “We’re all here with you, nothing bad can happen to you. You have to speak clearly and in a commanding way. You raise them from their sleep, Charlie, and you must give them a very good reason for this. It has to be clear in your mind so it’s clear in theirs. Protect people, do no harm. You have to convey the peace and devotion with which you want them to act.”

“No pressure,” Dean mutters under his breath.

To shut him up, Sam stomps on his foot and Dean sets his jaw to muffle his cry, letting go of his hand. Dean’s about to curse him or something but a severe look from Cas has the both of them quickly grabbing hands again and remaining silent. Cas closes his eyes again and takes a deep breath to calm down.

“When you speak the words, I will channel all my power and that of the others towards you through our hands. It might feel a little… overwhelming. But just go along with it, don’t let go.”

Charlie prepares herself even though she has no idea what to expect. Cas tried to explain it to her earlier but sadly she cannot relate to feeling a lighting bolt resonating all through her bones, as he’d said. The moment Cas starts to borrow his power to her, she realizes it’s begun right away. The electric feeling in the tip of her fingers almost has her pulling her hands away but he holds hers in place. She opens her mouth to gasp as the feeling crawls up her elbows, her shoulders, but no words come out. She can’t gasp or speak or breathe. Her ears ring, her mind is deafening white noise. It’s almost too much to take at once, like the sudden drop from the highest of roller coasters that leaves your mind blank from anything else but that one single overwhelming sensation. Charlie tries to relax and get used to the feeling but it’s almost impossible not to tense up with that kind of power running through her, rattling each and every one of her cells.

Somehow, despite it all, in the back of her mind she can hear Castiel’s voice telling her it’s time to cast the spell. She thinks of her mom, back at the house alone, and finds the strength she needs to gather herself and speak. With the steadiest voice she can muster, she calls onto the spirits of the deceased to rise once more. Kindness and love, she keeps these two things in mind while raising the dead, for this is the kind of power they want to feed them with.

_ Those who are gone must now return, _

_ protect the ones who for you mourned. _

_ In life and death, day and night, _

_ Hear my voice and do what’s right. _

_ Speak no words and play no tricks, _

_ your loved ones you must not afflict. _

_ When trouble comes, rise again, _

_ enemies you’ll crush and burn.  _

The spell works. She doesn’t know how she knows it, it’s just a feeling in her gut, like Castiel had tried to explain to her. Suddenly they’re not alone anymore. She doesn’t see them but senses their presence, their awakening. The uncomfortable feeling of magic running through her begins to retreat, snaking up her body, down her arms and returning to its source. Charlie sways, even as she’s sitting, as if her blood pressure was low. It’s not that she’s tired because she really didn’t do much at all, but after feeling so high she cannot help but feel low without that kind of power inside of her. Castiel catches her in his arms before she falls backwards and Dean hurries to put his coat over her. Her nose is bleeding, her eyes are unfocused.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” Dean asks her as the boys all crouch down around her, worried for her.

“Let’s just… never do that again,” Charlie responds in a faint voice, pulling the jacket closer around her small body.

Standing by the door of the mausoleum, Benny gasps and calls them. “You need to see this.”

All but Cas and Charlie gather around the entrance and take a look outside. Several dozens of ghosts are standing by their graves, staring right at them. Their piercing glares chill Dean to the bone. He puts an arm around Sammy without thinking, although that’d do no good to protect him, but the ghosts turn away without taking any further interest in them. Some start walking, others simply vanish. More than a little creeped out, Benny retreats back into the mausoleum.

“Well, I guess I’m not sleeping tonight…” he mutters.

“I thought it was kind of cool,” Garth grins in a lighter tone, earning an incredulous look from his friend.

With a satisfied smirk, Gabriel sighs and says, “oh, how I missed raising the dead…”

The comment sparks some degree of annoyance in Castiel, who not long ago got grounded for trying to do just the same, but he knows Gabriel was right to stop him, that Cas was not in his right mind when he almost tried to bring back Samuel Campbell. Maybe many years ago it would have been a different story, perhaps Gabriel would have allowed him to go on with his spell and risk damning Samuel’s soul, but he’s changed, he’s become soft and caring, not just with Castiel but even towards the mortals as well. Far from encouraging Castiel to do just about anything dark for the sake of exploring his powers, he protects Cas and his human side, his kindness, the goodness in him, for he knows Cas wouldn’t be Cas without it. So, here Gabriel is again raising the dead but not for the selfish and mischievous reasons he used to have.

“Of course your intentions were never this pure,” Castiel points out, raising an eyebrow at his brother. 

Gabriel simply sighs, burying his hands in his pockets as he leans against a wall. “I know, I’ve turned into a soccer mom. Look at me, saving the day… What have I become?”

His friends chuckle but Cas takes a moment to study his brother, the rather nostalgic and pensive look in his eyes. Gabriel is aware of his change but does he welcome it? Does he want it? Is he happier or is it harder to be good? Surely he misses using the full capacity of his gifts, casting complex spells, torturing and avenging and having his way in more exciting ways than messing with drunk bikers in dive bars. It cannot be easy for him, doing the right thing, when it goes against his religion, his culture, everything else he’s ever done. And yet he’s here, not just supporting them but  _ leading _ their efforts to protect the town, as the most knowledgeable and experienced out of all of them. He’s sticking his neck out for people who persecuted his family years ago, he’s going against the devil’s own wishes and commands. And all of it out of love, to save his youngest brother and protect the town, protect Kali. Castiel is rather proud of him and more than thankful to have him on his team but he wonders what’s going to happen to Gabriel because surely Satan will not take it lightly that he’s siding with the mortals, he’s anything but forgiving.

Dean pats Gabriel in the shoulder and with a teasing tone he says, “a decent man! If Satan could only see you…”

As soon as Dean finishes saying that, the candles blow out all at once, leaving them engulfed in darkness. 

Ominously, Cas whispers, “I think he is.”


	30. Chapter 30

Everyone is destroyed at school the next day. Castiel can skip it for the day since his brother knows what he was really up to the night before, but everyone else has to go to school and pretend they’re not trying to save the town at the same time. Damn, more like saving the  _ world.  _ Whenever they’re in a class together, the gang tries to keep each other awake. It’s surreal that they have to keep attending school, something so trivial, so unimportant at the moment, but they have to keep up appearances. 

After school, while John is still at work, Dean takes his dad’s shotgun from where it’s hiding in the closet and gives it to Sam, who keeps it under his bed. Should Sam be a normal kid, that’d be potentially dangerous but Dean knows Sam is a great shot and a responsible kid. It still sort of makes him feel sick in the stomach knowing he’s going to leave his family alone that night but duty calls. The hardest part is actually arguing with Sam and convincing him that he should stay behind.

Then, Dean takes a long nap, preparing for that night. After dinner he drives to the Novaks’, only to have Castiel open the door in surprise, like he hadn’t expected Dean to show up at all.

“No, no time for lover boy, we’ve got to prepare, Cas!” Gabriel exclaims on his way to the library. “Sorry, Dean!”

“What are you guys up to?” Dean asks. He takes a quick sneak peek at the library where dozens of books are scattered all over.

“Gabriel is teaching me a few spells. Attack spells. Not my area of expertise, obviously.”

“You’ve lived a sheltered life, bro!” Gabriel shouts from somewhere in the house.

“Cool, anything I can help with?” 

“No, they’re mostly for witches. Dean, I don’t want to be rude but I really need to get back to that.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll hang out in your room.”

Dean starts towards the stairs but Cas grabs his hand to stop him. He studies Dean for a second, tilting his head to the side while he’s thinking, a gesture Dean loves, then realization hits.

“Oh… Oh, you think you’re coming with us tonight.”

Dean blinks and huffs a laugh, dryly. He does a double take on Cas, only then realizing the slightly sort of anxious air about Castiel, like that of someone who has been interrupted while doing something important, with something they don’t have time to deal with. The witches weren’t expecting him, let alone even thinking about him.

“Obviously.”

“Dean…”

“What, you didn’t think I’d patrol with you tonight?”

“You didn’t come last time.”

“And someone  _ died _ !”

Castiel exhales deeply and looks down at his feet. “That’s on us.”

“And on  _ me _ ! I should have been out there looking for the damn witch with you!”

“No!” Cas exclaims, uncharacteristically raising his voice. He meets Dean’s eyes in an intense way that Dean misinterprets as almost challenging and squeezes his hand.

Dean abruptly jerks his hand out of Castiel’s grip, offended by his rejection.

“What, you don’t think I can take it?”

Castiel shakes his head and tries to grab his hand again but Dean takes a step back.

“I never said that.”

“That’s what you think!” Dean accuses him. “Cause I don’t have magic, I’m not strong enough!”

“I never said that!” 

“But you want me to stay home and hide like a coward!”

“There’s no shame in protecting your family.”

“The house is under magical protection  _ and _ Sam has a shotgun!”

From the living room, Gabriel yells, “you left the kid with a shotgun!?”

“He can handle it!” Dean growls at the same time Castiel waves his hand in the direction of the door, which closes immediately. Turning towards Cas, Dean continues barking. “Dude, you have  _ no idea _ what we’ve been through! Don’t treat me like I’m made of glass because I’m not! I can handle this and it is my duty to protect the town too!”

“I know that, Dean!”

Throwing his arms out in exasperation, Dean yells, “then why don’t you want me here!?”

“Because I don’t want to lose you!” Castiel frantically yells back at him. “Because I’m selfish! I don’t want anything to happen to you, I don’t want you out there in danger! You’re my happy ending, Dean. I love you! So,  _ please _ , I  _ beg  _ you, go home.”

Time stops for a second in Dean’s mind. For a brief moment, however childish it may be, he forgets about the murders and witches and Hell and whatever else that is not Cas standing in front of him, chest heaving, almost shaking with the fear of losing him. His eyes alone, if not his entire body language, convey the need he has to protect Dean. His mind frozen with the voice of Cas saying  _ I love you _ , Dean can’t even remember what he was so angry about.

In slow motion Dean pulls Castiel into his arms and holds his stunned boyfriend in silence. Cas melts against him, holding Dean back with his hands fisting the back of his jacket.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Cas whispers in his ear. “I’ve lost enough.”

“I know, Cas…” Dean pulls away just enough to look at him in the eyes and inhales long and hard before sighing. “Okay, I’ll go home… but if tonight’s not the night you catch the witch, I’ll go with you the next time.”

“Dean—”

“ _ Cas _ ,” Dean interrupts him with a pointed look, but just when Castiel thinks they’ll keep arguing, Dean says, “I love you too.”

That shuts Castiel right up. He knew it, he saw it coming. Hell, he saw them married in the future, it’s not like it was a big surprise that they’d fall in love eventually, but it still makes him feel butterflies in his stomach and like his legs are made of jelly. After so much anticipation, it’s so good to finally hear Dean actually say it, out loud, in the present.

“How do you think I feel when you go out hunting this murderous bitch?” his boyfriend points out. “How do you think I feel hiding at home while you’re in danger? I want to help. This witch murdered my grandparents. They’re the entire reason why my mom had to die. I have to do this too and you have to let me help you.”

Offering no more protest beyond the anxious expression in his face, Cas finally nods in agreement before hiding his face in Dean’s neck, resting his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“I’ll try to stop it tonight, then,” he says in a small voice.

Dean smiles and kisses his forehead. “For what is worth, I hope you succeed.”

Unfortunately, they don’t.

Two days later they read on the news about missing campers, two young men that went out hunting but did not return home as expected. A search party, organized by volunteers, sets out to find them. Not before long, after searching tirelessly day and night, they find the campers’ remains. They call it an animal attack, however bizarre the scene they find is, but the Novaks and their friends know better. Castiel and Gabriel really beat themselves up over it although there is nothing they could have done, they just could not cover the woods, it’d be an impossible task.

They keep trying to nail the killer, they do not relent, following every little clue they can possibly come across with, casting protection spells whenever they see death omens near a certain home, but a week later on Monday morning, when the next sacrifice is due, they wake up to the bitter news that the beloved school bus driver, Ed Hale, was stabbed to death in his sleep in a way that resemblances the Campbells’ murder too much for the police’s liking. Ed, a popular and sweet man that many knew and most adored, was the last person anyone could imagine being murdered in such a brutal way. The guy has literally no enemies. School is cancelled for the day, both out of respect to the man and also because the murder shakes the community deeply, reopening old wounds and stirring memories they had all gladly moved past from.

Dean drives his friends to the Novaks’. The entire drive they’re silent, there’s really nothing to say. Benny and Charlie, who spent years being driven to school by Ed, are especially saddened by the news. Charlie’s eyes are glassy, she sniffles a few times. Garth passes her a handkerchief without saying a word and grabs her hand once she’s doing blowing her nose.

When they get to the witches' house, they sit around in the living room, lost for words. The guilt consumes them. Castiel stands by the window, shoulders hunched forwards, staring out but not really focusing his eyes on anything. Gabriel is in an armchair in a corner with a mug of coffee that has gone cold in his hands. The silence stretches out, the defeat weighs heavy on their shoulders. Nobody blames the Novaks yet nobody tries to comfort them either; they know there are no words to console them, no way to convince them that Ed’s murder isn’t their fault. Dean knows that if they were unable to do something, he would have been less than useful as well but he cannot help drowning in regret, thinking that he should have been out there with them all weekend, patrolling the streets until they succumbed to exhaustion. 

After muttering something about tea, Cas drags his feet in the direction of the kitchen. Itching to have a moment alone with his boyfriend, Dean follows him, though he’s not sure what he wants to say. Cas barely acknowledges his presence in the kitchen, he moves slowly, lost in thought, in his grief. Dean watches him from the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

“I was the last one he took home,” Cas suddenly says while he waits for the water in the pot to warm up. When he looks up and finds Dean with his eyebrows pulled together in confusion, he explains, “when I was a kid, before high school. I was the last one Ed drove home, after school, and the first one he picked up in the morning. I’d always sit in the front row and we’d talk. He kept an eye on me, always made sure the kids wouldn’t pick on me. At least not in the bus… They hated me even before they knew  _ why _ they hated me… learned it from their parents, no doubt. But Ed… he was nothing but kind, always. He didn’t deserve this.”

Cas tightens his jaws and looks away. He busies himself grabbing a few mugs but Dean can tell his hands are shaking. He walks over to his boyfriend and hugs him from behind, resting his head on Castiel’s shoulder. He doesn’t say anything and neither does Cas.

When the tea is done, Dean helps him take a few mugs to their friends.

“So…” Benny takes a deep breath without much will. “What do we know?”

Gabriel puts his cup down and crosses his arms over his chest before responding. “It was brutal. Probably old fashioned murder, no magic. Ed was a good man but not exactly special sacrifice material… Murdering him by hand would have made the sacrifice more valuable.”

Dean feels sick in his stomach. He turns his eyes towards Sam, who hasn’t said a word since they left the house. He wonders if he should have left the kid behind but he also wonders if he could have. Sam, just as himself, thinks it’s his duty to be there. Their legacy, their burden.

“It was meant to hurt us. And the community,” Castiel says in a quiet voice, standing once again by the window with Seir perched on his shoulder. “It’ll only get worse… They… left a message. For us, no doubt.”

Sam turns on his seat to look at Cas and asks, “what message?”

“They wrote on the wall, with blood, ‘ _ open the door or you’re next _ ’.”

“You’re next?” Garth repeat.

The mortals exchange nervous glances with each other.

Cas shrugs. “It could mean any of us.”

“Any of  _ them _ ,” Gabriel corrects his brother, ominously turning towards the humans. “Not you, Garth.”

Castiel swallows through the lump on his throat and nods. He hates to admit it, that they’re in danger and he’s not. “Yes… any of you.”

A tense silence settles between them as they all take in the threat. Watching them be scared, wondering if they’re next, being  _ himself _ afraid for their safety, Castiel regrets ever telling his friends what he is and bringing them into the life of the supernatural. But then again, would it make a difference? Perhaps they were always in danger by mere association to him, for being friends. Charlie looks like she’s about to burst out crying any time now, just out of sheer anxiety. It breaks Castiel’s heart and it drives him insane, keeping him up all night worrying about them.

Sam, filled with rage and thirst for justice, is the first to break the silence. “So… what do we do?” 

Gabriel laughs bitterly and throws his arms out. 

“You tell us, hunter. And  _ don’t _ say we keep digging through your books because so far we haven’t found anything useful to catch this bloody witch.”

Dean sits back on the couch and tunes out. He feels like he has a ball made of lead in his stomach. He knows what they have to do; open the door… but he just cannot do it. It wouldn’t even be a negotiation, it would be giving into threats. Keeping the door closed means no apocalypse… but just how many people will they spare to be safe from that one other threat? Cas swears he could stop the apocalypse, yet he can’t catch this one witch. Dean hates to admit it but his confidence in Castiel’s abilities isn’t as strong as it should be if the witch wanted to prove opening the door would not be as damning as Dean thinks it could be, not to mention he’d have to dedicate the rest of his life to guarding the passage. Maybe he’s being too sensitive about this but he’s not going to throw his mother’s sacrifice and different options for his future out the window without a very good reason, without it being the very last resort.

After their visit, Dean drives everyone back home and heads back to his own. He’s surprised to find John’s pickup truck already parked outside their home and even more so when his father scolds them as they come into the house.

“Where were you?” he exclaims, jumping from his couch and breaking the distance between them so suddenly, so abruptly, that it sends Dean back in time to when John would approach him, drunk and angry, hand raised at him. When his dad reaches out to touch his face, Dean can’t help but flinch. But John, far from striking him like he once did, checks his kids for any signs of injuries. “You were supposed to come home right away!”

“We were at Cas’,” Sam explains, studying his dad with confusion. “What are you doing out of work?”

“I heard about Ed and I asked for the day off. Wanted to check on you boys.”

John sighs and nods towards the couch while he sits again on the spot his kids had found him in.

“Come on, sit down, I wanna talk to you, boys.”

The brothers exchange somewhat worried glances, both reacting the same way to John’s uncharacteristically calm but obviously concerned tone, before taking a seat on the couch. It’s very unlike them to have civilized, serious family reunions like this, and anything out of the ordinary is pretty much unwelcomed by Dean lately.

“So… Here’s the thing… When you were kids, right before, hmm… before we left town… there were a series of murders—”

Sam holds his hand up to spare John from having to explain things that they’re more familiar with that he probably is. “We know all about it, dad.”

“Right…” John nods to himself a couple of times. He takes a deep breath, as if gathering his courage. Dean braces himself as he gets that awful feeling in his stomach that he’s about to be told something he doesn’t want to hear. “So, the way Ed was… murdered… it’s very similar to how it happened to your grandparents. And I can’t help but wonder, given what happened then and what’s happening now, if it’s not the same person. Hell, everyone’s talking about it. It got me thinking, you know? What if Jamie’s attack and Annie’s accident are related? What if she didn’t just fall down the stairs? What if it’s all starting again?”

Dean doesn’t like where this is going at all. Anxiety constricts his chest.

“Okay… so… we’ll be more careful next time, I promise, dad. I’ll tell you where we are going before actually going,” Dean promises.

But John shakes his head, nervously rubbing the palm of his hands against each other.

“I just… I don’t feel comfortable with how close to home this hits, you know? This person targeted your grandparents. And they were the  _ only _ ones to be targettered at the same time. Something about your grandparents really pissed the psycho off. That’s what your mom thought, at least. Boys, it makes me feel just sick, just  _ sick _ , to wonder if it was personal. And if they could come after  _ you _ .”

Once again, the boys share a quick look with one another, trying to keep their faces as straight as possible though. Dean feels awful lying to John; if he only knew all they know, if he only knew they’re at the psycho’s top of the list and very much aware of it… that  _ he _ is in danger because of who his kids are. Dean feels ashamed for putting his father at risk and keeping him in the dark about it. He should confess the whole thing but he’s afraid of what John would do because, if Dean swapped places with him, of course he would pack all their belongings that very same night and drive away, put as much distance as possible between his family and whoever tried to harm them. But they can’t leave, not when they’ve finally built a home for themselves and when there’s an entire population of innocent people to be left behind at the mercy of a murderer. They cannot skip town again and leave the Novaks to handle the mess by themselves, it wouldn’t be right, Dean could not live with himself.

“So, what are you saying, dad?” Sam asks, although it seems he already knows as well.

“Look, I know that we have built something really good here—”

At once Dean jumps to his feet and begins to shake his head over and over again, starting towards his room. John jumps to follow him.

“—but I think we should leave.”

Rather childishly, Dean calmly states, “nope. Nuh-uh.”

“Not forever! Just for a while, until things settle down again!”

“We’re not leaving.”

John grabs Dean’s forearm and forces him to turn around.

“No!” Dean yells right in his face. If John wants a reaction, he’ll give it to him. “We’re not leaving! I’m not leaving! This is my home, you’re not taking this away from me again!”

“Dean, I’m  _ afraid _ for you!” John argues desperately. 

Deep down Dean knows he’s right and he knows his father’s reaction is understandable, maybe even reasonable, but the very idea of being forced to leave the home they built with so much effort and sacrifice almost seems worse than risking death. He lived hating life for so long, what’s the point of going back to that now he got a taste of happiness, love and friendship? 

“I’d rather risk it and stay! We have a life here! We have friends, Sam has a future, you have a job. You have a  _ girlfriend _ , dad!”

“Dean, you know I like what we have here—”

“Then  _ fight _ for it, dammit!” Dean growls with teeth and all, yanking his arm away and pushing John backwards. “You can stay with me or leave without me, dad, because I am sure as hell not leaving and this time you can’t make me! We’re not kids anymore!”

“Sam is!”

“No, I’m not!” Sam retorts, joining the argument.

“I’m trying to protect you!” John desperately tries to reason with the two of them. His eyebrows shot up and he can’t help but laugh nervously. “Jesus, I’m not trying to hurt you! I’m trying to protect you!”

“But what’s the point of leaving if we have nothing to escape to? We’ve been down this road before, dad, and it didn’t work. It almost  _ destroyed  _ us!”

“And what do you think would happen if one of you got hurt? You were out there that night when that kid was attacked. It could have been you!”

“But it wasn’t! And I promise you, no more parties, no more hanging out in the woods, no more going out at night, if that’s what you want. But I am  _ begging _ you, dad, don’t do this to us.  _ Again.  _ Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gif:  
> first gif: rooeymara  
> second: neillblomkamp  
> third gif: spnidjitsguidetohunting


	31. Chapter 31

“Guys, we have a problem,” Dean says as he sits down to have lunch with his friends the next day. Leaning forwards over the table and lowering his voice, he says, “my dad’s freaking out about Ed’s murder and he’s weirdly accurately putting things together, so he’s talking about us leaving for a while.”

Castiel stops with his fork midday and his mouth open. The blood drains from his face.

Because it would crush him if Dean left.

Because he would feel terribly lonesome without the support of the hunters… _again._

Because Dean has the fucking key and he still hasn’t found a way to convince him to give it up.

Dean grabs his hand and says, “don’t freak out, dude, I managed to dissuade him. But we know one week from now there’s going to be another attack and it’s going to get harder to convince him to stay.”

“Same with my parents,” Garth says. “And it’s worse because they’re more aware of what’s going on but I explained we’re not valid targets so that calmed them down a little bit. Still, they’re not happy to know they’re living in the same place as an evil witch that wants to kill all my friends.”

“Well, they’re gonna kill us whether you leave or not,” Benny points out. There are bags under his eyes, he couldn’t sleep all night. No matter the amount of spells they cast, he doesn’t feel safe, he wakes up with every little sound at night, waiting to catch a killer in the act. He’s got to protect his family.

Garth nods in agreement. “That’s what I said! So they took pity on you and I managed to convince them to stay. They’re also down to helping with the night patrols next week.”

Cas can’t help but smile at that, glad to have more support. “That’d be great, Garth.”

“Why don’t we just tell more people?” Charlie suggests. “I mean, we could ask more adults for help.”

“Because our parents would get the hell out of dodge if they found out the killer is after us,” Benny responds.

“And,” Cas also answers with a bit of a smirk, “they would probably burn my brother and I at the stake.”

Charlie cannot help but nod in agreement. “You’re right, forget it, dumb question…”

“I’m not leaving,” Dean firmly states but he looks troubled nonetheless by the argument with this father. “He can’t make me. But he could take Sam and… I don’t know that I trust him to take care of Sam. Besides, Sammy’s got an attitude, they’d be at each other’s throats.”

“You could always stay with us,” Castiel offers, grabbing Dean’s hand below the table. “Both of you,” he adds because he knows the Winchester brothers are a two package deal. He’d do anything to get Dean to stay, even if that’s reckless because they would, for certain, be safer if they went away. But he justifies his selfish desires by telling himself there’s no safer place than his home.

“I know… but maybe _they_ should go. I mean, Sammy’s at the top of the list in terms of sacrifice material, I’m really worried about him.”

Benny huffs a laugh and gives Dean an incredulous look. “Like Sam’s gonna let ya send him away.”

Dean sighs, knowing Benny’s damn right. Sam will barricade himself in the bunker before leaving Dean behind. He tries to find comfort in the fact that Sam’s carrying the most powerful of the protective talismans with him, at all times,, plus he is the most knowledgeable of the humans in terms of spells, he knows how to handle himself, but he’s always going to be Dean’s little brother and Dean will always have the mighty need to protect him.

A little vigil is held in Ed’s memory, the entire gang attends. Charlie leaves flowers for him, the boys light some candles. The stay for a while in respectful silence, wondering, _fearing_ , what’s to come next.

During the week the ghosts drop in on Charlie a few times to report back to her, scaring the shit out of her each and every time. Almost all of the ghosts have the sense to appear to her when she’s alone, but there were a few incidents where they caught her at the supermarket or at school where she had to bite her tongue not to catch people’s attention. Some come with useless news, but others catch omens of dead that the Novaks can use as a warning, to protect the families before tragedy strikes. Even though they’re harmless, Charlie still hates the situation and can’t wait to be able to break the link between them and send the spirits back to their resting place.

Castiel stops going to school. Gabriel leaves town for a few days, running after Rowena to try and convince her to help them out. During his brother’s absence, Cas makes sure he’s available at all times to step in and help should any attacks occur during the day. He has Seir patrolling the city day and night, almost to the point where they are both too exhausted to be of any use. 

John and Dean argue some more, yelling at each other because they don’t know better. Dean wants to go to Castiel’s to help him out while the witch focuses in protecting the whole goddamn town; cook for him, clean up a bit, make sure he’s taking care of himself, but John doesn’t want his son heading out to that old house in that big chunk of land that is separate from the rest of the town, where someone could easily attack him and no one would find out or see a damn thing. Dean tells him he’s being ridiculous but John uses Clarice’s disappearance as an example which infuriates Dean because he actually knows what happened to her, that she did not disappear nor was she murdered, she’s right there, turned into his by her own choice, but of course he cannot tell him that. When Dean is about to leave against John’s wishes, his dad threatens once more to leave town and take Sammy with him which has Dean freezing on the spot and becoming complacent. 

The whole situation puts a strain in all of them. Neither Benny or Charlie take it lightly that in a few days someone may target them or their family, they both have trouble coping with it. They take comfort in the protection Gabriel gave them but they’re still nervous, knowing it won’t be completely effective nor will it protect them from a physical attack. The Winchester boys have less time to go to the bunker, John keeps a way more careful eye on them. With Cas in the brink of a nervous breakdown, having all the pressure of protecting the town by himself, he can’t really spare time to check in on Dean. He’s constantly using magic, every minute of every day, trying his hardest to catch the witch, to find some clue that may help. They barely talk on the phone at all. He sounds beyond tired and Dean worries about him, wondering if he’s even sleeping. He tries to convince him that things are fine, that he should relax a little as the weekly mark hasn’t caught up to them yet, but Cas is losing his mind with worry anyway.

Gabriel returns one day before the next sacrifice can be made. Rowena refused to go back with him to help them catch the witch but she does give Gabriel a spell that can help them track who they’re looking for. The spell is risky though; it will only lead them back to the witch _if_ they catch the magic trick on the spot, meaning they would have to witness the magic to be able to finally catch the trail. Under the circumstances, it would most likely mean that they or someone else would have to be in danger, under attack. They debate a lot over this and Dean offers himself as bait at once. Castiel shuts him down immediately and tells him not to act hastily; they will more likely be targets soon enough so there’s no need to jump into more unnecessary danger.

And so, they wait and Sunday comes around soon enough.

Charlie wakes up really early on Monday. She’s barely slept at all, couldn’t close her eyes and rest for more than a few minutes before a nightmare or any tiny little sound would wake her up. The trees moving outside, the smallest of creaking sounds, a car passing by; everything and anything rattled her and woke her up. So when her mother got up and went into the bathroom, even through the closed doors she could hear her mother coughing. Alarmed, Charlie throws the covers aside and jumps off her bed, forgetting her slippers as she hurries towards the bathroom.

“Mom?” she asks nervously and she knocks on the door.

The door opens right away. Her mother squints her eyes at her, hair messy and obviously still very tired.

“Need the bathroom, love?”

“No. I heard you coughing. All good?”

“Yes, honey, why? It’s just a cough. You okay?” Her mother opens her eyes a little bit more and studies the nervous wreck that Charlie is that morning, cupping her face to comfort her. The expression of aggravation in her child’s face helps her wake up. “What is it, Charlie? You don’t look good.”

“Why don’t we take the day off?” Charlie suggests, forcing a smile. “It’s been a while since we had a day just for the two of us. We can stay home and order pizza and have a marathon of—whatever you want, I’ll let you pick.”

“Baby, I’ve got to go to work,” her mother chuckles.

“Please, mom?” Charlie insists, holding her hands almost desperately, not wanting to let go.

There’s just something about that cough she doesn’t like. Maybe she’s exaggerating but considering everything that is going on she rather err on the side of caution. The talisman will not save them from a curse, just delay it. If this really is something to worry about and in the end a curse ends up befalling onto her mother, Charlie would never forgive herself for not trying hard enough to protect her.

“Charlie, seriously, love, what’s wrong?”

Like a child trying to hide away from the world in her mother’s arms, Charlie hugs her waist and pleads, “just stay home today? Please?”

“Is this about Ed, baby?”

 _Sure_ , Charlie thinks, nodding in response, _let’s play that card._

“Yes. There’s just a lot going on. I’d feel much better if we had a day to ourselves, okay?”

Sighing in defeat, her mom gives in to her request. “Okay, okay… but I _have_ to work from home for at least a couple of hours, okay? I need to finish some papers for tomorrow.”

Charlie resists the urge to jump up and down with relief and plays it cool, maintaining the kicked puppy look in her face while she nods solemnly once more.

“Thanks, mom.”

Then she retreats to her room and through the magic mirror Gabriel gave her she informs the rest that she will be skipping school today. Cas reminds them all to have their mirrors close by and call for help should they need it, that both Cas and Gabriel will be in the car most of the day, not far from Charlie’s or the school, where the rest of them are. Dean tells Cas to be careful and that he loves him. Charlie tells them to get a room but in reality she’s glad they’ve come around and did the whole falling in love thing; they really do make a great couple.

With the witching hour gone and the sun rising and shining down on them, Charlie is able to sleep a few more hours. They know daylight is no shield, that the sacrifice can still be done during the day, but since it’s not the witch’s usual m.o. she tells herself she can sleep some more without immediate danger lurking at every corner. After all, Teddy White was the only victim attacked during the day, so they don’t think it is likely to happen again.

When she gets out of bed for good, she makes pancakes for them while her mother works on some numbers at the dinner table. The older woman is focused on her work, making calculations and annotations, making sure everything is ready for the next day. Out of the blue a red, fat drop of red falls on her otherwise perfectly neat notebook and she gasps, more concerned with the mess it’s making rather than its origin. It takes her a second to register what it is and where it’s coming from; she’s bleeding from her nose. 

From the corner of her eye Charlie sees her leaning back on her chair and touching her face. Suddenly her mom gets up with her head leaning backwards and she hurries towards the bathroom.

“Mom?”

When Charlie finally turns around and sees the stains in her mother’s papers, she freaks out and runs after her.

“Mom! What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just a nosebleed,” her mom assures her while she looks for the cotton in the first aid kit. Charlie crouches down to look for it under the sink at once and hands it to her mother, who puts a chunk of it inside her nose. “Thank you, dear.”

“You should lay down,” Charlie suggests. Suddenly alarm bells are going off in her mind and she itches to grab the magic mirror in her pocket and ask for help right there and then, in front of her mother. 

“Honey,” her mother chuckles, giving her an odd look like her daughter’s overreacting, “it’s just a nosebleed.”

She removes the cotton to take a look inside her nose in the mirror, which immediately proves to be a bad idea. Her nose bleeds non stop, falling down her chin onto her pyjamas. It’s a constant stream, although the quantity that comes out is not yet alarming. With a small surprised _oh_ , she leans forwards over the sink and throws more cotton up her nose.

“I’m actually feeling a bit lightheaded… Think I’d better do lay down for a bit… Finish those pancakes for me? I think some sugar would be good for me.”

“Sure, mom…”

Charlie diligently sees her mother to bed, giving her a nervous but encouraging smile that is everything but convincing, then heads back to the kitchen to where the pancakes are burning over the pan. She takes the pan out of the fire and has the senses to turn the stove off. Her hand searches for the magic mirror inside her pocket, almost dropping the thing when she desperately takes it out of her pocket. She opens it and whispers into it, calling Cas for help.

She’s not sure what to expect, what they can do. If it were her who was cursed, they could easily take care of it but how are they supposed to uncurse someone who doesn’t know about witches? How are they going to trick her?

When the Novaks show up though only minutes afterwards, they’re anything but discreet. They don’t kick the door down but when they come in they march straight into Charlie’s mom’s bedroom, not even bothering to knock on the door before barging in. Her mother, frightened by the men who are suddenly storming into her room, quickly sits up, only to frown up at the Novaks in confusion.

Before any of the Bradbury girls has the time to ask a single thing, Gabriel stretches his hand towards the woman now sitting in the bed and says, “et obliviscere somnum.”

Immediately, Charlie’s mom faints and falls back in the bed.

“Mom!” Charlie yelps, starting towards her, but Cas grabs her arm and stops her.

“It’s alright, I just put her to sleep,” Gabriela assures her while Cas says, “we need to act quickly to track the witch.”

“Break the cuse!” Charlie asks him desperately, watching as her mom seems to become paler and paler with every second, the cotton ball in her nose already soaking red.

Castiel shakes his head while Gabriel, with Seir perched on his shoulder, kneels down next to the bed and starts taking things out of a bag she hadn’t noticed before. “Not before we track the witch.”

Anger flashes through her eyes. “Cas!” 

“She’ll be alright, I won’t let her die, I promise.” 

Castiel walks around the bed and sits on the edge, grabbing Ms Bradbury’s hand. Almost immediately, his nose starts bleeding although at a much slower rate. She frowns at him challengingly, not completely satisfied as she doesn’t like to see him hurt either, but deep down she knows it is necessary. Cas wipes the blood from his nose and smiles at her but it’s not reassuring at all as some of his face now has blood smeared on the side. It’s slightly disturbing, considering Gabriel is turning on candles hastily with a simple movement of his hand and producing ingredients for a spell which includes a skull and all. 

Gabe acts quickly, reading a spell from a scroll, written in a language Charlie can’t recognise at all. Cas sits on the bed, eyes closed, rubbing his temple with his free hand, occasionally bleeding from his nose which Charlie hurries to clean up with her t-shirt. He looks exhausted, pale and with dark bags adoring the space under his eyes.

All of a sudden a flame erupts from the bowl Gabriel had been holding with the ingredients and Seir takes off immediately as if he were chasing something only he could see. Gabriel follows him at once, leaving a very confused Charlie looking back at forwards between Castiel and the direction in which Gabriel just took off and abandoned them.

“What the hell?” Charlie asks, voice an up an octave higher. She throws her arms out in indignation and turns towards Cas once more.

The bewildered look in her face _almost_ makes Cas smile, if it wasn’t for the terrible headache that is splitting his head into two.

“Did your brother just freaking walk out on us?”

Lazily, dragging his words like it’s just an effort even to speak, Castiel explains, “he’s following Seir, who is following the magic. I cannot break the curse until they get to the destination, otherwise they will lose the trail.”

Charlie turns the light on the room but immediately turns them off when Castiel tries to hide his face from the light like it’s hurting his eyes. 

“Cas, are you okay? Do you want me to call Dean?”

The witch shakes his head although it’s a very small gesture. He lays down on the bed and takes a deep breath. Blood sneaks out of his nose again, trailing down the side of his face. Again, he tries to rub it off with the back of his hand but all he does is smear is all over his cheek.

“It’s fine. I can take it, it’s fine.”

“You don’t look good, dude,” Charlie worries as she puts more pillows behind his head and gives him a piece of cotton to shove up his nose.

“The curse is… annoying. Uncomfortable. But I’ve had worse, trust me. I can take it.”

“Just don’t play hero, okay? If it’s too much just break the frigging curve, no one’s going to be mad at you.”

“I’m fine…”

Charlie exhales sharply and shakes her head at his endless stubbornness. She stands around nervously, looking down at her best friend and mother while she bites her nails. She leaves the mirror on the nightstand, staying attentive to it. 5, 10, 15, 20 minutes go by and nothing happens. In fact, Castiel hasn’t moved at all, she notices after a while, he’s been laying extremely still and completely silent. Something drops in her stomach as she wonders if maybe Cas fucking died in front of her and she was too dumb to notice.

A shaky, hesitant hand stretches towards him only to stop halfway through.

“... Cas?” she asks in a small, frightened tone that conveys exactly what she’s thinking.

“I’m not dead, Charlie,” he grunts in response.

Charlie sighs dramatically and leans against the wall with a hand over her chest. “Oh, thank God.”

“I told you, I’m—”

“You’re _fine_ , I heard you… White men ego, I swear…”

Frowning in her direction with only one eye open, he mutters, “technically I’m not _entirely_ a man, so…”

“Well, excuse me, _half witch_ . You’re a white dude with _powers_ , you’re like at the top of the chain of privileges, come on, don’t play dumb.”

Cas is about to protest but they both feel it, the buzzing of the magic mirror that has a message for them. It’s Gabriel, telling them Seir has somehow lost the trail.

“No, it can’t be,” Castiel mutters to himself as he sits up, frustrated because he can still _feel_ the curse in action, weakening him as he shields Charlie’s mother from it. It’s something very dark and powerful, he feels the malice and hatred that come with it, that give life to the curse that means not just to kill but to cause great pain as it does. He and the protective spells cast upon the house can delay it, but not enough to make him immune to it. He has to give it to his sibling, whichever it is that is helping the witch cast this spell, they’re truly quite powerful. “How can that be? It was supposed to track it!”

Gabe doesn’t waste time conversing with them though, he announces he will scout the area and he orders Cas to break the curse which he does. Wanting nothing but to join his brother in the witch hunt he makes to leave but as soon as he gets up his mind becomes foggy, his vision turns black and he stumbles forwards into Charlie’s arms.

“Cas! Take it easy, lay down.”

He tries to fight her but Charlie easily pushes him back to bed which is testament enough of how drained he is.

“I have to help.”

“You have! Now keep my mom asleep while I put all this stuff away. We’re gonna have to come up with something, she saw you—”

Castiel waves his hand dismissively and says, “she won’t remember a thing.”

“Promise?”

He nods. “Forget and sleep, that’s what Gabriel said. It’s just better to say a spell in its original language, it makes the spell stronger.”

Cas sits up on the bed and takes a few deep breaths before he stands up. He’s still lightheaded, an acute headache has settled in the front of his head, but he makes his way to the bathroom without any major issues. There he washes the blood off his face and hands. He grabs the backpack once Charlie put all the ingredients for the spell back inside and then prepares to leave but Charlie force feeds him some pancakes before he leaves.

“At least eat something, Cas. You’ll need your strength.”

Her friend nods and smiles. He looks sickly at this point but she knows very well that there’s no getting through to Cas when something gets into his mind. If he says he’s leaving, then he will and there’s no stopping him. It pains her to let him go alone but there’s just no way she’s leaving her mother alone.

“I’m gonna be at Benny’s, watching over his parents,” he tells her before leaving, after Charlie gives him not one but two boxes of cookies. “Keep an eye on your mom. The curse shouldn’t come back but, you know, just in case. If anything happens, call me again.”

Charlie throws her arms around his neck and hugs him tight. She fights the tears in her eyes, trying to be as brave as he is.

“Be careful, Cas.”

“I always am.”

“You _never_ are/” she disagrees, shoving him playfully.

He frowns at her like he doesn’t know what on earth she’s referring too, then takes off on foot.

After school, Dean and Sam drop by to check on her. Charlie is trying to keep it together but so much as a sneeze coming from her mom freaks her out. They play video games in the living room instead of her bedroom like they normally would just so that she can keep an eye on her mom who has definitely noticed Charlie is being weird.

“Aren’t you afraid for your dad?” she asks them in a whisper.

“You heard Gabriel, he’s not sacrifice material.”

“Maybe they go after him just to hurt you?”

Dean shrugs, not really that worried about that either. “My dad was a marine. He can take just about anyone that comes at him and the house is warded with spells _and_ the talisman.”

Sam gasps and turns his neck around so fast to face his brother that it cracks. “You left the talisman at home? _Dean_ ! It’s supposed to protect _you_!”

“Well, I figured the witch would assume I’d be heavily protected. I would if I were them, with me being a hunter and Cas’ boyfriend. So I don’t think they would try to come after me, they’d go after someone with less protection. Also I’m with you all the time, you’d be able to call for help quickly.”

“You _assume_?” Sam repeats, giving his brother the biggest bitch face Charlie has ever seen in her entire life. Sam looks so much older, much more mature and aware while Dean simply shrugs his worries away. The youngest brother is livid. “That’s so reckless! Cas is gonna kill you.”

“Only if you tell him,” Dean retorts, narrowing his eyes at him.

“Oh, I’m going to.”

“Give me a break, like you didn’t leave yours at Eileen’s!” 

Sam’s face falls and it’s all Dean needs to know he was right about his suspicions. He would be angry with his little brother if he didn’t know with absolute certainty that, should the roles be reversed, he would have absolutely done the same for a mortal and clueless Castiel. All Dean can do about it is hope for the best and keep a careful eye on Sam at all times to help him should someone try to curse him.

“How did you know?”

“Cause I know you have a big fat crush on Eileen. Cause I have eyes, Sammy. Also I saw you make a doll that looked suspiciously like her, I assume you must have hidden it somewhere in her bedroom?”

Avoiding his question, Sam responds, “it’s _Sam._ ”

“Jesus!” Charlie snaps at them, putting down her controller. “ _Must_ you bicker this much, guys?””

“You’re an only child, you don’t get it…” Dean mutters childishly.

“So you’re both telling me you’ve got no protection?” The brothers look at each other, then at her and nod. Charlie grabs her head, horrified. “My God! You guys! You’re so… _stupid_!”

“I prefer the term selfless,” Dean simpers playfully, trying to ease her worries but it doesn’t work at all.

“No, I definitely think you’re just stupid.”

“He’s got a hero complex,” Sam tells Charlie, snickering at how triggered Dean is by that.

“Oh, like you don’t!”

Stressed out of her mind, Charlie rests her forehead in her knees and hugs her legs closer to her chest. 

“You’re driving me crazy.”

Finally relenting, Dean reaches out to put an arm around her shoulders. Softly, he says, “sorry… Do you want us to leave?”

“Hell, no! Actually would you mind staying the night?”

Charlie gives them both that puppy-eyed look that she only exploits a few times a year when she really, _really_ wants something from someone. Dean falls for it right away and is delighted that Sam can stay too. It’s not like Sam can’t handle himself but he _is_ still just a boy and Dean doesn’t want to leave him alone with a crazy murderer on the loose. 

Dean calls John to let him know they’re over at Charlie’s. He’s somewhat annoyed that his dad has no problem with them staying at Charlie’s but he won’t let him stay at Castiel’s, but that is not the time to argue that since, at the moment, it works in his favour.

Around dinner time Cas and Gabriel drop by. Cas’ face is still somewhat pale which makes the dark bags under his eyes seem ever darker, if that is even possible. He looks exhausted and beaten, mentally and physically. Dean is worried sick about him which only makes him feel more guilty. Cas is wearing himself thin trying to put an end to this madness and keep everyone safe, while Dean is going to school like nothing’s wrong and playing video games with Charlie. He should be doing more, he should be out there helping too, putting his education on the line like his boyfriend but he’s got John to answer to and Cas does not.

“Did you track the witch?” Sam asks them while they gather outside on the sidewalk.

“Yes and no,” Gabriel responds enigmatically. He doesn’t look too good himself. His hair is all messy and his skin shines in a way that it’s obvious he’s been sweating. Far from the usually smug and careless Gabriel, he seems to be done with everything, leaning against the car as his feet ache with exhaustion. “The spell was not nearly as accurate as Rowena said it would be. It was supposed to allow Seir to follow the magic back to its origin but instead it just… sort of gave us an idea of the neighbourhood. That, in and of itself, is very unusual, Rowena is rarely ever wrong. I just… don’t understand what’s going on anymore. Things aren’t working like they’re supposed to. _At all._ ”

Something about that resonates with Dean and he automatically thinks back of Rowena and the card reading she did for him a while back. Opposing, confusing ideas. The sun and moon.

_Something that’s not what it seems to be._

The realization suddenly hits him and everything clicks in his mind, suddenly it all makes sense, it’s so obvious he wants to slap himself for not realizing it sooner.

He gasps and grabs the front of Castiel’s shirt rather aggressively, gaining an almost disapproving glance from his boyfriend. 

“It’s _not_ a witch!” he exclaims, which has Gabriel looking around in bewilderment in case any neighbours are passing by. “They are not acting like a witch because it’s _not_ a witch! It’s a human! It’s a person!”

“That’s impossible,” Castiel argues, “a mortal could never cast such a powerful spell.”

But Gabriel bites his lower lip, lost in thought with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s doing the math mentally too. A part of him doesn’t want to come to the same conclusion because he cannot believe that in so many years it never even occurred to him. He would have never dreamed that a witch that hated humans so much would allow one to use their powers just as he hadn’t thought a mortal capable of bringing the apocalypse into their own world, but…

“Technically, they can,” he whispers, almost talking to himself rather than the group. “If they’re using a very powerful witch’s magic, if they make the right type of bonding spell… yes, they could. And it would explain why we never found a trace, mortals don’t leave trails, they don’t have a magical mark.”

“But Rowena’s spell tracked a witch's magic—”

“Which, again, is why it didn’t work perfectly, because it’s _not_ a witch, it’s… for Satan’s sake, it’s just a person.”

Dean throws his arms out, grinning victorious from ear to ear like an idiot while everyone glares at him. “I figured it out! I cannot believe _I_ figured it out!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First gif: erebussociety  
> Second gif: pedretti


	32. Chapter 32

Dean can’t sleep. For good measure, Gabriel sent his familiar to watch over John so Dean’s not unnecessarily worried about him but once again Cas is out in the dead of night, weak from lack of sleep and diverting a curse from Charlie’s mom to himself earlier that same day. He’s the most powerful of them all and yet Dean cannot stop worrying about him. Of how far he’s willing to go to save others. He wonders if he’s wrong, if he should just open the door before the sacrifice numbers get dangerously high, to spare Castiel any more pain if not to save his town. Hesitation pulls his soul apart, he doesn’t know what the right answer is. Things are not black and white anymore, there are a dozen shades of grey and so many possible consequences, so many mistakes he could make with every path he takes. And no matter what he does, Castiel will always be in the front line, in danger, trying to solve this issue.

The worst part is that now that they followed the source of magic to the next town over, where the rest of their friends live, Cas is further away from Dean. Should they need immediately help, it could take Dean maybe too long to aid him. Even if he drives like a maniac, it’s about a 20 minutes drive to their neighbouring town. A lot can happen in 20 minutes. Someone can get killed in 20 minutes. 

The air mattress is comfortable but Sam can’t sleep either. He rolls to lay on one side, then the other minutes later. He dozes off occasionally only to wake up for longer periods of time. Dean tries to give him more space so he can get comfortable and fall asleep already, but it doesn’t seem to be helping.

“Sam?”

His brother grunts in response.

“Want me to leave you the mattress?”

“No… I can’t sleep.”

“You good? Feeling anything weird?”

“I’m not being cursed, if that’s what you mean… I just… can’t stop thinking...”

“About?”

In the dark, Dean can see him shrug.

“Everything. I’m afraid that if something happens tonight, dad’s gonna make us leave.”

Dean reaches out to ruffle his hair and smiles at him, even though he realizes Sam probably can’t see him.

“Don’t worry about that, I’m not gonna let that happen. I’ll have Gabriel curse him into staying.”

“ _ Dean _ .”

The oldest brother chuckles. “What? Like you haven’t thought about it…”

“What if it’s us? What if we’re cursed or something?”

Sam sounds so sad, it reminds Dean of when he was just four and Dean would hold him when he cried. He can’t help but see Sammy like that, like the small brother he wants to protect, to make small and keep in his pocket for safekeeping. 

“Whatcha mean?”

“Think about it. We finally get what we want and then this happens. We can’t catch a break.”

“We will, don’t worry.”

“How do you know?”

“Cause I saw the future, in visions Cas had. It’ll be good, I promise. We just have to get through this.”

Sam rolls onto his back and exhales long and hard. “I just want this to be over.”

“Me too.”

A minute of silence passes between them. Dean wonders if he should say anything else but he doesn’t really know what. If he had words of advice or comfort he would have tried to convince himself with them but he’s lost for words. Once again his thoughts drift towards Cas instead.

He’s trying to come up with something good, something sappy that will satisfy Sam and give him hope, even if Dean doesn’t believe it himself but instead, all of a sudden, without any warning, he hears this distant and unintelligible whispering. He cannot make out what is being said, the words drag and hang in the air like a distant, ominous calling. It very much reminds him of a horror movie and it makes the air on the back of his neck stand. He becomes aware of what can only be explained as a thick, charged atmosphere in the room, and the temperature drops several degrees.

Alarmed, he sits up in the bed with the magic mirror in his hand.

“You felt that too?” Sam whispers in such a low voice Dean wouldn't have heard him if he hadn't been holding his breath.

Dean nods in response, looking around the dark room expecting to see something,  _ anything _ , but there’s nothing in there with them. 

In her sleep, Charlie shifts and whimpers. Dean reaches out to shake her arm to wake her up. As he does, Sam crawls out from under the covers and heads to the window.

“What?” Charlie groans groggily. 

“Hmm, Dean…”

Dean turns towards his brother, who is standing by the window, looking down at the street as he holds one of the curtains towards the side. Sam gives him this uneasy expression that has something dropping inside Dean’s stomach. Gathering his courage but honestly hoping he could just go back to sleep and pretend everything’s fine, he jumps out of bed and marches towards his brother. Outside, in Charlie’s front lawn, standing in a circle around a heavy mist, there are at least a dozen women dressed in long dresses with their faces turned in their direction. Dean cannot actually see their faces very well but just the thought of having all of them looking at him directly makes him feel all kinds of wrong.

From behind him, he hears Charlie whisper, “what the hell…”

“I think they’re ghosts,” Sam says. Then, without warning he bolts and runs out of the room.

In a haste, Dean follows him, trying to keep quiet as he runs down the stairs after him. “Sam!” he hisses as quietly as possible, looking around the dark. 

To the left he sees his brother’s figure moving in the kitchen, struggling to find the lights. Charlie runs past Dean and turns the lights on for him.

“What are you doing?” she asks in a slightly hysterical voice.

Sam’s just about to answer when the front door starts to shake violently. The three of them jolt and turn in its direction, hearts beating out of control in their chest. They hold their breaths, waiting for something to come through, but the many spells the Novaks cast on the house prove strong and reliable, keeping out whatever is attempting to come in and, surely, harm them.

“Salt! I need salt! And iron! Charlie, where’s the salt?” Sam asks, pulling from her arm to force her to focus.

“Wh—what?”

“Ghosts have a few weaknesses, the ones we can use right now are salt and iron!” he explains quickly. When she doesn’t react fast enough, Sam leaves her standing there agape, too sleepy and caught off guard to deal with the situation quickly. Instead, Sam, who has read about ghosts in hunters’ journals, turns towards the cabinets looking for salt.

Dean grabs Charlie by the shoulders and shakes her. “Charlie, sweetheart, pull yourself together. Deicing salt, where is it?’

“I’ll—I’ll get it for you,” she mumbles before hurrying towards the small closet under the stairs.

Instead of waiting for her, Dean runs to the fireplace and grabs the fire poker, positioning himself between the door and the kitchen, where the other two are, with the weapon ready in his hands.

“They shouldn’t be able to come in,” Sam tells Dean as he valiantly comes to stand next to his brother, but he holds the salt close to his chest like he’s also ready to act if it’s necessary. “The protective spell should keep them out. But just in case, we should salt the entrances.”

Dean nods and gives his brother the fire poker before taking the deicing salt container from Charlie. Then he carefully approaches the door, which doesn’t stop rattling as something in the outside attempts and, luckily, fails to come in. Dean puts a line of salt in front of the door and at once it stops shaking.

“The windows too,” Sam suggests.

“Kids, what the  _ hell _ ?”

In unison the three of them turn around to find Ms Bradbury standing at the bottom of the stairs with a long robe, tied around her middle. The scene is somewhat comical in the back of Dean’s mind and he hopes he can go back to it later and laugh about it, but in that moment he can only panic because adding Ms Bradbury to the equation cannot do anything but complicate things.

Thankfully, Sam seems to have a solution for that.

“I’m sorry, Ms Bradbury,” he tells her before putting his hand inside his pocket and blowing some weird red powder right into her face before saying, “et obliviscere somnum!”

Her eyes roll back into her skull and she begins to fall backwards. Sam catches her, barely, and Dean runs to help him. Together, they lay her on the sofa while Charlie pulls her hair as a panic attack starts to kick in.

“What did you do to her?” Dean asks, trusting his brother but also somewhat alarmed.

“She’s just sleeping. Learned it from Gabriel.”

“God, I  _ really _ need you to be more normal, Sam.”

“Now it’s not the time to bicker!” Charlie reminds them as she finally gets a grip, grabs the salt and hurries to make a line in front of the backdoor. 

Then, Dean takes the container from her again and runs around the house, salting every entrance, warding it against the ghosts, just in case. When he’s done, he rejoins them in the living room and takes the fire poker from Charlie.

“Okay… Okay, we’re fine,” he tells them as he catches his breath. He tries to convey confidence and peace as the other two look at him for guidance. “It’s fine, we’re okay, they can’t come in, that’s great, we’ve just got to call Cas and wait it out, no biggie. Ok?”

Charlie nods, way too many times for Dean not to think she’s losing her mind a little. “Already did, they’re on their way.”

“I don’t think it’s going to be that simple,” Sam tells them while he looks out the window into the foggy night.

“Why, what’s the matter?”

“They’re leaving.”

Dean marches towards the window and indeed sees the ghosts walking away into the night. He sighs, relieved. “Dude, that’s good!”

“No, Dean. They’re not just  _ leaving _ . They’re heading towards the neighbours’ houses.”

Slowly, almost teasingly, but surely, the all female spirits walk towards the rest of the houses. Some of them even look at the kids over their shoulders, smiling at them with rotten teeth and crooked grins, taunting them, daring the mortals to come out of their hiding place.

“They can’t come in so they’re going to force us out,” Dean thinks out loud. He feels the blood draining from his face, fear of what’s going to happen to the neighbours clutching his heart, but at the same time the adrenaline and courage kick in; he has to act and he has to do it now. “They’re going to attack people for bait.”

“We have to help them!” Sam exclaims agitatedly.

“What the hell do we do? We’re outnumbered.”

“Charlie, call the ghosts, the good ghosts!”

Charlie blinks, stunned. “What,  _ me _ ?”

“You’re connected to them! Call them for help! Summon them.”

“I don’t know how to summon ghosts, Sam!”

“Make a blood offering. Your blood binds them to you, they’ll respond to that.”

At first Dean thinks Charlie is going to tell Sam to go fuck himself but in a spark of courage, Charlie runs to the kitchen and returns two seconds later with a kitchen knife and a glass. Before Dean can reach out and stop her, Charlie has already sat down and is making a cut across her arm, blood quickly spilling into the glass that rests perilously in her thigh.

Dean gets a kitchen towel from the kitchen right away and applies pressure in the injury.

“What now?” Charlie asks Sam.

“Call them.”

Charlie closes her eyes and tries to focus, like Cas taught her, in nothing but the intent of her call, the desired outcome of the magic she’s trying to use. She doesn’t know if this counts as a spell, if she’ll fail without the possibility of borrowing his magic as a source of power, but there’s no time to wait for the Novaks. She whispers to the ghosts slowly but firmly, asking for their help, imagining that her words reach all of them and hoping that it will spark in them a desire to protect their town from evil forces. When she opens her eyes, the two brothers are looking down at her in expectation.

“Well?” Dean asks.

She shrugs, not really sure whether it worked or not. Should she have received a reply or a sign? She didn’t get either.

Sam runs back to the window and sighs and smiles when he sees more dishevelled ghosts, like the ones they saw at the cemetery the night they summoned them, materializing in the streets and spreading in the same direction the previous spirits did.

“They’re here! Charlie, it worked. But—but they’re not as many as the bad ones. Dean, some houses are not being protected!”

Dean runs to join him by the window, his hands tightening around the fire poker with resolution, readying himself. “Like which one?”

His younger brother points a house across the street, four houses to the right.

“We have to warn them!”

Sam starts towards the door with all the intention to save the day but Dean grabs his arm with one hand and slips the other inside his brother’s pocket. He grabs some remnants of the powder Sammy used in Charlie’s mother and blows it into his face before saying the same words Sam said minutes before. Immediately, his brother passes out, going completely limp in Dean's arms.

“Dean, what the Hell!” Charlie yells at him disapprovingly. She cannot think of a worse idea than lowering their numbers, especially when Sam is the one who knows the most about this stuff out of the three of them.

“I’m not gonna let my little brother go out there, Charlie!” he retorts as he effortlessly picks Sammy up in his arms and lays him down on an armchair. He knew there was no other way to keep Sam from putting himself in harm’s way and Dean’s entire life has been dedicated to avoiding just that. “Stay here! Look after them!”

“Dean, wait!”

He knows it’s a bad idea to go alone but he cannot bear the thought of comfortably staying put when others are in danger because of him. It’s because of him that this is all happening, because he brought the key back to town and the killer knows it, wants it, and it’s surely his presence which attracted the ghosts, so it’s his duty to stop them as well.

Just as he’s running down the street towards the house Sam pointed out, one of the spirits that had first appeared outside Charlie’s house materializes just a few feet from him like it had been waiting for him. Dean startles but immediately recovers and charges towards it, swinging the iron bar to attack the ghost which melts into thin air the moment the iron pierces through it. 

“Wow.”

He momentarily stops to process what had just happened, both deeply thankful but also pleasantly surprised that it  _ actually  _ worked so easily. When he’d been hunting before, he’d always brought the rock salt shotgun with him; a weapon he could use at a long distance always seemed safer than trying his luck by charging at a ghost with something made out of iron. Also, he’d avoided having to encounter the ghost altogether as much as possible, dedicating most of his time to just researching the case and burning the bones. Now, in the back of his mind he wonders if it had been smart to have unquestionable faith in Sam’s advice but there’s no time to dwell on it and he has never doubted his brother’s research abilities either so he’s not going to start in the middle of a crisis.

When he gets to the house he finds the front door closed which isn’t really surprising. He turns on his heels with the idea of trying the back door instead but comes face to face with the same ghost that had initially stood in his face just seconds ago. As her dead eyes pierce into his, something drops inside of him and the hairs in his entire body stand. There’s just something about them that screams  _ evil _ . She makes a movement towards him and he puts the bar up but before either can attack the other, another ghost grabs this one from behind and they start struggling, fighting one another. Dean recognises the new ghost as one that was summoned by Charlie, one that’s trying to help him. Taking advantage of the distraction, he bolts and circles the house until he finds the back door in the garden. Once again, the door is locked. He hesitates, wondering what he should do next because what if he’s wrong and no ghost came into this house to hurt someone? What if he breaks into someone else’s house and he gets in trouble with the law? What would that mean for his family? It could be quite serious, they could make quite a case against him. He’s already had trouble with the law before, he’s not a popular kid and people would be happy to pin at least Ed’s murder on him, a kid from a seemingly troubled family with a complicated past. They’re desperate to throw someone in jail, to pretend it is all over. If he gets caught breaking and entering, with a  _ weapon _ in his hand, who is to say what would happen to him. If the police doesn’t get him in big trouble, John will surely murder him. They would at least move away, he’s sure of that. He’s got a lot to lose.

In those seconds of hesitation he hears what he had been both expecting and fearing; the distant but distinct scream of a woman and something like glass shattering. That’s all he needs to spring into action. He hits the glass in the door that is closest to the handle with the fire poker, cringing at the noise the shattering glass makes as it lands on the floor. He prays no neighbours has heard it as he breaks in. A bit disorientated in the strange, dark house, it takes him a minute to find his way but finally he makes it into the living room where he all but crashes into a woman, the owner, who was running in the opposite direction. She screams again when she sees him and jumps back in terror, grabbing the closest items her hands blindly reach for and aiming them (pretty terribly, thankfully) at his head.

“Wait! Stop, I’m here to help!” Dean exclaims as he holds his hands over his head to protect himself.

The moment she realizes he’s an actual person and things are hitting him instead of flying through him, she stops throwing things at him.

“There’s a—there’s—”

Too terrified to form a coherent sentence, the fear in her eyes and the spooked expression in her face are enough to make him understand she has seen something awful and he knows right away that there is indeed a ghost inside the house.

“A ghost?”

She nods frantically and clutches his arm like she’s afraid he’ll leave now he knows the truth. 

“Help me!” she pleads, her free hand landing in her stomach. Dean looks down and notices the smallest of bumps. An overpowering need to protect her at all costs quickly overtakes him and he knows he’ll do just about anything, smart or stupid, to protect his woman and not just because she’s sacrifice material. 

There’s also a long cut in her arm which is bleeding but it doesn’t seem to be deep enough to be life threatening. At least not more than a ghost.

Dean grabs her hand and pulls her towards the back door. “Come with me!”

Together they start towards the garden. However, it closes on its own right under their noses and the woman jumps back, crying out hysterically. Dean turns and stands in front of her in a protective way, holding the iron bar up as he faces the ghost standing by the doorway to the living room. 

“Leave her alone, you son of a bitch!” he yells, channelling all the might and defiance of a hunter, no fear under the face of danger. Over his shoulder, he tells the woman, “go to the Bradbury’s, it’s safe there!”

He then charges towards the ghost before it has a change to attack first. It dodges him effortlessly and appears a few centimetres to his left, delivering a quick blow to his side that throws him back several feet into the living room. He slams into a wall and falls over a small, cheap coffee table, breaking it. His land is anything but smooth and he’s momentarily disoriented, the pain slightly numbing his mind, but when he sees the ghost advancing towards him again, he scrambles to his feet and lunges towards the bar. However, the spirit swings her hand to the side and once again has him flying across the room, away from his weapon. He lands against a large mahogany desk, the wooden corners painfully digging into his skin. The air gets knocked out of his lungs and he stumbles onto the floor, breathless. He needs just a second to collect his thoughts but the ghost acts fast, forcing him to his feet and pinning him against the wall where he levitates a few feet above the ground while feeling his windpipe being constricted under an invisible force. He gasps for air and desperately tries to blindly feel for something he can grab and use against the ghost but the few things his hands can reach are not iron but small decorations that do nothing but fly right through the ghost. 

Being choked to death, he has enough time to look into the ghost’s dead eyes, the pale skin, that maddening and thoroughly disturbing look in her face, and he cannot help but think this is not the last thing he wants to see. He’s not particularly afraid to die but he doesn’t want it to be  _ this  _ way. Desperately, he feels his pocket for the magic mirror but it’s no longer there. He experiences a new kind of hopelessness when he realizes that. He tries to call Castiel’s name, in case he will hear him nonetheless, somehow, but a strangled, forced noise comes out instead of words. His nostrils feel hollow when he tries to inhale and the noise in the room seems to get oddly distant. He’s dying and he has no idea how to fight it, how to stop it. All he can think of is Sammy is going to be fucking pissed at him for being so reckless, even though he sees the lady he saved running across the street through the front windows, in the direction of Charlie’s house. He decides it’s okay then because he got to save her. At least his death will mean something, that’s more than many get in their life. At least he finally did something good with his life.

The ghost leans towards him. Dean wants to recoil but fails to move. She inhales, slow and deep,  _ smelling _ him, which for some reason makes him feel violated, and with a sickening grin whispers, “Campbell blood.”

Her eyes burn an intense red, with literal rage, and with her bare hands he grabs one of his arms and breaks it. The mind-numbing pain almost makes him forget for a moment that he’s choking. He feels it in every inch of his body and it’s all he can think about as he tries to cry out in pain. She smiles wickedly, enjoying his pain like she’s watching an entertainment show. There’s something personal about her enjoying his suffering, his first guess being this is not just any spirit that was raised, this is something his family must have hunted at some point, something that holds a grudge against him. He realizes this is it, this is the end but before his mind is totally overpowered by the darkness that has already begun to stretch around the corners of his vision, a slightly familiar black fog with bright, red eyes attacks the ghost from behind. The odd, shapeless figure surrounds the spirit, creating a mouth-like hole that begins to devour the woman, whose piercing screams make Dean’s stomach twist and turn. The moment the black mass has completely swallowed the ghost, the pressure in Dean’s body disappears and he abruptly collapses into the ground. In the seconds that take him to gather his thoughts, to think something else beyond the need to breathe and the aching pain that comes from several different parts of his body, this new spirit grabs him by the back of his shirt and begins dragging him out the front door, which opens on its own. Dean is confused and dizzy. He almost starts to panic again while this  _ something _ drags him away but then he realizes he’s being led back to Charlie’s. This thing is not trying to harm him, it’s trying to help him.

“Seir?”

The black mass turns its eyes towards him and regards him for only a second before turning back around—however that works, given that it’s got no real shape. Dean struggles to his feet, Seir helping him to stand up straight. Having him touch him is a bizarre experience; he can both feel it and not at the same time, as if an invisible cold pressure were touching his body instead of anything solid. Dean stumbles the few steps down the porch into the front lawn.

“Fuck, no,” he mutters tiredly when another evil ghosts appears on the sidewalk.

Seir wastes no time attacking the spirit, devouring it in the same way he did the other, destroying it and sucking in whatever is left of it. Dean can’t help but stare both in awe and in horror, mouth hanging open in disgust. He’s got no idea what’s happening, where the ghost is going into; it’s like Seir is  _ eating _ it but he’s shapeless so Dean’s utterly confused. Then Seir is back by his side, pushing him towards Charlie’s as if Dean’s not going fast enough for his liking. Dean peers around the empty street, trying to figure out if there are other homes that need his help. In the corner of the street, there is a house with the lights on. Fearing they are also in danger, he starts towards that house but Seir’s black fog surrounds him and pushes him towards safety instead.

Dean tries to resist his boyfriend’s familiar but he’s too weak and the spirit is too strong. Besides, any time Dean tries to force his way out, mind-numbing pain stretches across his body, momentarily blinding his vision with its intensity. Through gritted teeth, he argues, “I have to help.”

“I have orders,” Seir retorts in that deep voice osf his and won’t let him go until Seir all but pushes him inside Charlie’s living room. 

The moment Charlie and the neighbour see this big mass of darkness coming through the door, they start screaming in terror. Charlie, bless her, grabs the knife she’d used to cut herself and jumps to the front of the group to protect an unconscious Sammy and her mom. In that moment Dean has mad respect for her because even in the face of the unknown, the strangest, the scariest, even though she’s afraid and she thinks she’s in danger, she still finds it in herself to fight for others instead of fleeing and trying to save herself.  _ That _ is what true courage looks like.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s not going to hurt you!” Dean assures them while he holds his broken arm with the good one. 

“I will watch over the mortals,” Seir tells him before he disappears into the night, the door to the house shutting behind him almost as a warning for Dean not to try to follow him. Dean tries to open the door, of course, just to check, and finds it to be locked somehow, magically. That was Castiel's order, no doubt. A part of Dean is slightly offended to be locked away like a child but at that moment, with his broken arm blasting pain through his body, he cannot argue much.

“Dean, what happened to you?” Charlie asks her. She approaches him and reaches out with her hands, which are shaking, but she doesn’t know what to do about the broken arm and it seems to freak her out to even look at it rather than be able to help. She’s pale, and given her natural complexion is already a little ghost-like, that’s really saying something.

“Ghost,” he simply replies, trying not to groan in pain.

“What the hell is going on!?” the neighbour lady asks. She’s sitting on an armchair, hands around her middle, hyperventilating. She swings back and forward on her seat like a crazy person but Dean can’t really blame her.

“I already tried to explain but she won’t listen,” Charlie whispers to him so that she won’t hear. “I think she’s panicking.”

Dean glares at her. “You think, Charlie?”

Trying his best to keep his shit together for the sake of the two women, Dean tries his best to control his pain, sit down and act as normally as he can under the situation but it’s hard, the pain shoots through him like hot, white lightning, discomfort pulsing through his veins.

“What do we do here, Charlie?”

“Call an ambulance?” she asks. She actually reaches for the phone but Dean shuts her down right away.

“No! You’ll put them in danger! And how the hell are we going to explain all of this to them anyway?”

“I’ve thought about that!” she points out with a mildly excited grin, like she’s so proud of herself for being somewhat useful in the situation. “We’ll say we were up playing video games when we noticed some weird movement outside, we thought someone was breaking into her house and you were just a good samaritan who went and checked on the neighbour. You had a fight with the burglar—”

“ _ Or, _ ” Dean interrupts her, turning towards the other woman in the room, “we can just say I fell down the stairs and you can kind of keep this between us.”

“But I had such a good story!”

“Charlie,  _ trust me _ , I’m a professional liar. The simpler the lie, the better. I don’t want to get the police involved in this and lie to them. Do you?”

He looks back and forwards between the women who eventually nod in agreement. Lying to the police sounds like a terribly stressful idea and they are heads over heels already overwhelmed as it is.

“I’m not going back there though,” the pregnant lady says, her hands protectively hiding her stomach from view. She studies their reaction nervously, like she’s fearful that they will ask her to leave eventually.

“Can you leave town for a few weeks? Got any family you can visit?” he asks her and she nods in response. Noticing how pale and stressed she is, Charlie heads to the kitchen to grab some water and chocolate for her. “Good. We’ll walk you to your house later, you’ll get your stuff and leave right away. You’ll be safe out of town.”

Castiel and Gabriel arrive not too long after that. While Gabriel remains outside conjuring and vanishing the remaining evil ghosts that the good ones and Seir are trying to hold off, Castiel barges in and takes in the scene at the living room. When his eyes land on Dean’s arm, he gasps and hurries to his side.

It’s almost an accusation when he asks, “what did you do?”, like he knows Dean did something stupid that put him in danger.

Through the pain, Dean smirks, trying to alleviate Castiel’s worry. “Saved the day is what I did. You proud of me?”

But his boyfriend merely frowns in response, angry at his recklessness. “You should have waited for us!”

A simple touch of his hand to Dean’s forehead has the pain in the arm somewhat diminishing. It starts to feel numb, which all in all is an improvement. His abdomen area though continues to ache; Cas did not direct the magic there.

“There wasn’t any time. Can you do something about this?” He lifts his broken arm ever so slightly, pointedly avoiding looking straight at it because he doesn’t have the stomach for it. It’s twisted in an awkward position that just looks  _ wrong _ .

“I’ve never fixed a bone that big, I’m afraid I’ll hurt you. I think we should take you to the hospital now.”

Charlie nods, sprinting into action. “I’ll drive!”

She grabs hers and Dean’s jackets from the closet by the door, looking for the car keys inside his pockets as she follows the boys outside.

“Stay here, Gabriel will come and help you soon,” Dean tells the neighbour as they leave. The woman nods in understanding and hugs a pillow. Dean wonders if she’s going to be fine; the poor lady looks traumatized.

Before they’re out the door though, she runs to him and kisses him briefly in the cheek.

“Thank you,” she tells him with tears of gratitude in her eyes.

Dean can’t help but smile, knowing he did the right thing even if Cas will murder him later for putting himself at risk.

Just as they’re getting into the car, Gabriel comes running down the street, waving his arms to stop them. 

“Where are you going?” he hisses as he tries to catch his breath. Perched on his shoulder is Seir, back on his animal form.

“Taking Dean to the hospital,” Cas explains, gesturing towards his broken arm.

“No, you’re not.”

“Gabriel, he needs help.”

“I agree but  _ you _ are not going. I need you to stay back and curse the neighbours. A few saw things we don’t want them talking about so erase their memories and just to play it safe, give the entire block nightmares, to confuse them.”

“But—”

“I know you’re worried about your boyfriend but you’ve gotta see the bigger picture here, kiddo. I’ll drive Dean, you two stay back and get things in order. Get that lady packed and ready to leave and get Charlie’s mom to her bedroom.”

Cas wants to protest, everything in him tells him to go with Dean, to not let him out of his sight but deep down he knows he’s got to stay and do as Gabriel says. Dean gives him a small smile and lets Charlie help him into the backseat, where he lays down in pain. He must truly be aching if he’s letting it show, Dean’s usually the type of guy who doesn’t like to show any signs of weaknesses.

Seir jumps from Gabriel’s shoulder to Castiel’s and nuzzles his neck in an affectionate way. Cas watches them leave with a constipated look on his face while Charlie holds his hand waves at them.

In his mind, he can hear his familiar speaking to him.  _ He will be okay, he’s strong, _ Seir says.

That doesn’t change anything though, Castiel still hates to see him be hurt. He should have been there to protect them but he just cannot be everywhere at once, protecting every single person who knows or doesn’t know. And still, even though it’s not reasonable and he knows it, he cannot help but think it’s his responsibility; what’s the point of all that great power he’s got if he can’t do anything incredible with it, like protecting his people? It makes him uneasy to think all he’s good for is causing suffering and chaos. In the end, that was the intended purpose of the devil’s gift. 


	33. Chapter 33

Going to the hospital with Gabriel is a wild ride but Dean survives and he’s thankful for that much. Gabe is not exactly the supportive type, he’s not the kind of guy that’s going to hold your hand and ask if you’re in pain. He’s busier worrying that they’re inside the territory where Seir followed the magic back to than the fact that Dean’s got his arm broken in two and his abdomen is so bruised they’re doing x-rays on him to check for broken ribs. His concern doesn’t stop him from harmlessly flirting with the redhead nurse that’s treating Dean though. He’s not sure what his brother in law sees in her; she’s got crazy eyes and a smile that far from endearing seems to be about to devour you. Or maybe Dean just dislikes her because she draws blood from him a little too aggressively, sticking the needle in him without so much as a polite warning sign.

At first he sort of panics about the impending medical bill he’s going to drop on his dad’s lap the next morning but Gabriel insists on paying it off. Dean’s not one to accept charity but when Gabe points out it’s money that was originally gained through foul play throughout the centuries the Novaks spent on Earth, he feels a little less guilty about it. Beggars can’t be choosers, the truth is that the Winchesters just cannot afford these types of bills at the moment. 

While he’s at the hospital he comes up with a lie to tell his dad. At first he plans to tell him he fell or something, while at Charlie’s, and that she drove him there but he realizes it wouldn’t make much sense that Ms Bradbury slept all through it. They would have woken her up and asked her for help. John would be suspicious of this lie, no doubt, it’s just weak. He can’t really come up with a convincing enough reason why they’d go to the hospital without Charlie’s mom or why Gabriel would be there to pay for it all, so in the end he decides to tell his dad that he lied (even though it bothers him profusely to admit to something he didn’t actually do) and spent the night with Cas instead. Furious with his boy, John once again threatens to move if Dean disobeys him again and grounds him. It’s the first time John has  _ really  _ grounded him in his entire life and kept him from doing things or going places, and in any other circumstances Dean would laugh and see no authority in his orders, but since John seems dead serious on his threats of skipping town again Dean finally puts his head down and lets John be the father. He’s to come and go straight from school every day, no more going out, no more spending the night at anybody’s place but their own, except for when John drives him to the library after school to ‘study’; if only he knew what his son was really up to in the basement.

They make it to Tuesday with no murders but they know it’s just a matter of time. Gabriel and Cas visit and momentarily protect every house where they see an omen of death or where the ghosts summoned by Charlie tell them something is off but one day something will go unnoticed and their enemy will finally get their next sacrifice done. Tragedy will strike sooner or later, to them or someone else. Luckily, their research finally produces results. That afternoon, after school, Garth finds a spell they can use not to stop their enemy but to protect others from it.

“It’s basically a shield,” he explains as he super carefully puts down the ancient handwritten book he had been reading. The book covers many spells related to sacrifices but these are sacrifices meant to be done with  _ good _ intentions, not bad ones. “It says a person can offer themselves as a sacrifice to receive all harm, either physical or magical damage, attempted to be brought down on another one, or even more than one person. That person would of course feel a great deal of pain, or, hmm… even die, so…”

Dean and Gabriel instantly meet their gazes and share a knowing look and just as Castiel says, “I’ll do it,” the other two say, “nope, not happening.”

The youngest witch frowns at them and shakes his head, quickly disregarding their disapproval before leaning closer to the book to take a look at the ingredients.

“I believe we have all of these. The ingredients are rare but combining our collection with that of the Men of Letters we should be able to pull it off.”

“Cas, did you not hear the part where he said you could  _ die _ ?” Dean, rather agitated, points out, hating how much in his bones he knows he’s not going to convince Cas not to go ahead with it. He almost wishes Garth had also foreseen this would happen and kept that information to himself.

“The spell is meant to protect a few people at best at a time though,” Garth chimes in. “Not a full town. It was mostly meant to protect members of the royalty.”

Stubborn as ever, Castiel shrugs like it’s nothing. Surely, with his amount of power, he should be able to stretch the scope of the spell to cover everyone who needs it. Finally he finds a worthy and deserving challenge to put his magic to good use. “I’ll make it work.”

“Why don’t you let me do it?” Gabriel offers, knowing just as well as Dean that there’s no changing Castiel’s mind, there’s no way he’s  _ not _ going to sacrifice himself for others in his annoying and desperate attempt to prove he’s good, not what Satan wanted him to be and what he almost became.

“This is white magic, Gabriel, a soul from Hell is not appropriate for this and you know it. Your spell would be weak. I have a half human soul, I can do it. And I am the strongest out of all of us, I can survive the attacks and you can help me heal. Together, we can protect the entire town,  _ finally _ .” Castiel plants a hand in Gabriel’s shoulder, calm and sure of his decision. He looks so mature, so sincere in his desire to help, but in Gabe’s eyes he’s still four and running to his bed when he’s afraid at night. “I am not asking for permission, I am asking for your help.”

“Cas, are you sure?” Charlie asks in a soft tone. “Nobody will blame you if you don’t want to.”

“We’ll find another spell,” Dean interjects, trying to convey with his eyes the crushing anxiety he feels just imagining all evil befalling in town his boyfriend at once.

Cas can’t look at him in the eye, afraid that Dean will be able to melt his resolution. “We haven’t found any other spell so far, Dean. We’re doing this tomorrow. When we find another spell, we’ll lift this one. This spell is efficient and it will last… well, for as long as I do.”

A grim silence befalls the group but the matter is settled. They all want to protest, even Cas wishes he didn’t have to do this—he’s not suicidal, after all. He knows it’s not a good idea at all but it’s their  _ only _ idea, there’s no other choice, at least that they know of so far. 

Dean looks around the room hoping that someone will speak up and agree with him, that someone will help him to try to stop Cas from doing this to himself, but he finds his friends—hell, even  _ Sammy _ —avoiding his eyes and remaining silent.

“We can’t make it tomorrow, though,” Dean says. He wants to delay this, as much as possible. Something tightens and aches in his chest at the thought of Cas going through with this. “My dad’s not going to believe I have to come to the library this often.”

“We can do it without you.” Cas finally meets his eyes and though Dean’s face hardens with disapproval, his boyfriend gives him a sympathetic smile. “Maybe it’s better that way, Dean.”

Instead of arguing, knowing that it’ll do no good, Dean sets his jaw and storms away hoping that if he can’t logic with Cas at least he will guilt-trip him into changing his mind. It’s not healthy, it is childish behaviour for sure, but he doesn’t know what else to do.

Castiel watches him go, knowing exactly what Dean is doing. Everything in him wants to go after him but he doesn’t though, once again afraid that Dean will be able to alter his decision. This is for the greater good, to protect even Dean, so Cas is going to go through with it even if it means Dean will be angry at him. 

Instead, he turns towards the youngest Winchester. “Sam, we’re going to need your blood to open the bunker tomorrow.”

Sam doesn’t argue despite also wishing he could be present for the spell but if Dean’s not allowed to go with him, John’s not about to let his youngest walk around alone with a lunatic on the loose. He’s directly affected by Dean being grounded. He gives them his blood willingly. Before leaving they test opening the door with it and it works; the fresh and pure blood, willingly given with good faith, finally does the trick for the witches. It’s nothing like the diluted water mix Cas tried the last time. 

Without the Winchester boys, the rest of the gang prepares everything to cast the spell the following day. Dean knows what they will be up to after school without him and he’s not happy about it at all, he had sort of hoped his friends would oppose the idea of helping Castiel achieve basically suicide, so lunch is a quite tense and overall quiet affair. Despite being angry, Dean holds Castiel’s hand, almost a little too hard. It’s like he fears it’ll be the last time so he’s got to do it now, for as long as possible, even if they’re not really saying much to each other. Later, it feels odd not having the Winchesters there for the spell, not to mention opening the bunker without them, and a part of Castiel wishes Dean was there to support him, but in the end they all agree it’s for the best that he’s not.

Everyone has to participate in the ritual to cast the spell which calls for witnesses. These must be people close to the one offering themselves up as sacrifice, they must love the poor soul that’s about to be cursed; should Cas succumb due to the pain or injuries caused by the spell, there has to be someone to mourn him and feel the loss, to carry on the burden of the sacrifice. 

Even though they’re meant to be there to ultimately suffer too, just in a different way, Castiel is glad for the company. The spell is a painful and tricky business, or so the instructions warn him. His loved ones stand wearing cloaks to disguise them, to avoid the spell from focusing on the wrong person, as Cas sits inside a circle with candles lit around him. He has to drink a rather unpleasant mix of ingredients (which could easily kill him if he failed to prepare it correctly) and say words in a language he’s not fluent in while he holds two angel feathers, arms crossed in an  _ x _ over his chest. He spent all night practising with Gabriel to make sure he got it right because, again, if not done correctly it could be incredibly dangerous, not just to Cas but for the people around him. He has to say the words right, in perfect order, with neat and clear pronunciation. He’s got to mix the ingredients correctly, at the proper pace and sequence, until he finds the right consistency. There are so many things that can go wrong, so many warning signs along the way, but he’s not turning back now.

Before starting, he wonders as he allows himself a moment of hesitation, if this could be related to the dream he had about Death, if this spell will be his undoing. If it was a warning. He wonders but he continues nonetheless because there’s just no other choice.

In the bright side, the spell works immediately which means he mixed the ingredients properly and he said the words right, but in the other hand a searing white hot pain explodes inside his mind and all that stops him from dropping the angel feathers is that his body all but convulses from the pain and he clenches hard every single muscle of his body. Ugly gurgling, choking like sounds are all that come out of him as he struggles through the overwhelming ache.

Shocked by the violent response, Charlie takes a step forward towards Cas but Gabriel forces her to freeze in the spot with a simple movement of his hand.

“Don’t interfere!” he barks at her more aggressively than necessarily but he cannot think right while he watches his brother suffer, twisting and clenching in pain. All he knows is that if she stops the process, it’ll all be in vain and his little brother cannot suffer that much for nothing.

Cas feels each and every soul in town being linked to him in the most unpleasant manner possible. It’s like he’s receiving a direct stab of something long and sharp into his own soul for every person in town the spell will cover and having part of it injected into him, occupying space that wasn’t even available inside of him. He feels all of them, their beating hearts, like drums in his head. It’s deafening, it’s intolerable. The pressure in his head is so overwhelming he cannot think of anything else but anguish. He cannot think or breathe, he doesn’t even know if he’s alive or dead anymore, he’s practically unconscious as his eyes roll back into his skull.

Charlie starts sobbing and shuts her eyes. Benny, on the other hand, can’t tear his eyes away from the awful spectacle. Chest heaving, he wonders if Dean was right, if this was just a really,  _ really _ stupid idea. Gabriel keeps an eye on him, waiting for him to take a wrong step too.

Gabriel is glad he didn’t let Seir come along, he wouldn’t have been able to resist the impulse to intervene and protect Cas. Hell, everything in him is screaming to put a stop to it too.

“This isn’t right!” Benny yells, finally finding his voice. He can’t bear to watch his friend suffer anymore, Cas is doing a dangerously convincing impression of a dying person. “You have to stop it!”

“Nobody move, goddammit!”

Cas finally succumbs and falls on his back, trashing and shaking and making sounds so ugly Gabriel won’t forget them for the rest of his life. His baby brother’s ears, his nose, his  _ eyes, _ are bleeding.

“Gabriel, he’s dying!”

“No! He’s strong enough, he can do this!”

“Cas!” Charlie cries, choking on her sobs. “Cas, just let go!”

Disregarding Gabriel’s orders, Benny makes a run for Cas but the witch, who had expected them to react emotionally, sends him flying back towards the wall. Benny hits the concrete hard and falls on his ass on the ground.

“Gabriel!” Garth growls menacingly, a bit of werewolf coming out of him as he bares his teeth in protection to his friend.

“Nobody touches him! He’s—”

And then Cas just stops moving altogether, laying completely still on the ground. Pale, unconscious and bleeding. Gabriel’s stomach twists violently at how  _ dead _ Castiel looks. Gabriel lets go immediately of Charlie and Benny in favour of kneeling down next to his brother, cradling his head on his knees. Charlie falls on her knees too, hands shaking violently with nerves.

“Is he— is he—”

Gabriel grabs his brother’s wrists and feels for a pulse. He exhales sharply, relieved to feel a weak but steady pulse.

“He’s okay, he’s okay,” he says over and over again, mostly to himself. He has to believe Cas is strong enough to bear this burden, otherwise he’ll lose his mind.

“He was right about doing this without Dean here,” Garth says as he helps a disgruntled Benny up. Benny shoots Gabriel a resentful look as he runs a hand up and down the back of his head where he hit the wall. “He wouldn’t have been able to watch this.”

“Help me take him to a bed,” Gabriel asks Garth while Benny puts an arm around Charlie to comfort her.

They all gather around the bed where they put Cas to lay, anxiously staring down at him without speaking in a way that does nothing but creep him out when, an hour later, he finally opens his eyes. He’s got a raging headache, his eyesight is a little blurry and he’s dizzy as fuck. However, besides that, according to him, he feels fine.

“What happened?” he asks when he notices the tense atmosphere. He can tell Charlie’s been crying, her eyes are puffy, his nose is red.

“The spell was… pretty disturbing,” Gabriel admits, unable to make light of the situation and joke about it, for once in his life, which is all Cas needs to know it must have really been something. “What do you remember?”

The curve of Castiel’s lips twist downwards and he shrugs. He scratches the back of his head. There’s this annoying ringing in his ears…

“Nothing, actually. Just… white.”

“White?”

“Yes, white. The souls, I guess? I... don’t know.”

Charlie, practically bursting out in tears for the third time that day, kneels on the bed and throws her arms around his neck, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug.

“You’re an idiot!” she yells at him completely unpromptedly.

Confused, Castiel blinks a few times and looks around at the others wondering what the hell he did to deserve the insult.

“I’m… sorry?”

Charlie pulls back and shakes head head at him, partly wishing she would have sided with Dean earlier. “You’d better not get killed.”

Tiredly, Cas smiles and nods, patting her back affectionately. Truth be told, he finds her embrace rather reassuring, but something tugs at his heart at the thought of losing that, of dying. He tries not to show it but inside he’s full of apprehension for what’s to come, the inescapable pain that will, sooner rather than later, come for him.

The very next day, the first new murder attempt happens. Cas’ grandma, Seir and Hades are in constant watch, keeping an eye on Castiel at all times in case the witch gets cursed or hurt and needs Gabriel’s assistance. They brothers go to bed early in the evening and wake up just before the witching hour, the time when they know most of the attacks occurred, in anticipation of what might happen. Friday 3 am comes around and Cas is quietly nervous. Gabriel follows him around all the time, from room to room, which makes Cas even more uneasy. The night is young, they still have hours to go, and Gabriel is already pushing on Castiel’s buttons.

“Stop it, Gabriel, you’re making me nervous,” he snaps maybe a little too harshly. He feels bad right away. In a softer tone, he adds, “I’ll let you know if something happens. Go rest.”

Seir keeps by his side though, nothing could tear him apart from his master. He’s mad at Cas for going through with the ritual and for doing it where he knew Seir could not follow, but he’s more loyal than anything else so he stands by his master no matter what.

Cas pours himself a cup of tea. He’s always found the act of drinking tea overall relaxing. The warmth of the porcelain in his hands, the steam coming out in funny waves, the taste of her mother’s favourite flavour; chamomile. He always pours himself some tea when he needs to calm down for a moment. The hot water fills the cup while his eyes scan the shelves for the tea box. He grabs it with one hand and puts it down next to the cup. As his eyes look down again, his breath catches in his throat when instead of water he sees blood pouring down into the cup. Confounded, he waits a second too long to stop what he’s doing and the thick liquid overflows the cup, dripping down the sides into the little plate underneath. He puts the teapot down at once and calls his brother who runs into the kitchen at an unnecessary speed.

“What is it?”

“The—the tea.”

Gabe looks down at the cup which, besides having way too much water on it, looks absolutely normal to him.

“What about it?”

“What do you mean? The blood!”

Gabe lifts an eyebrow. After a moment of silence, he asks, “what blood?”

Thinking for a moment that he’s gone mad, Castiel looks back down at the cup as if to check that it’s actually there and that it has blood, and it  _ does.  _

“What, you can’t see it?”

Understanding hits Gabriel right away. He sucks in a breath, bracing himself for the situation will surely do nothing but escalate from now on, and tells his brother, “you’re being cursed.”

Immediately Gabriel darts into the pantry and grabs a set of ingredients he had already prepared for this occasion, the same ones he used for Rowena’s tracking spell last time. Hurriedly he casts the spell and orders Seir to follow the magic, hoping that in this case maybe Seir will be able to get closer to the source or see something suspicious, but this time Castiel’s familiar doesn’t react to Gabriel’s order at all. He stays put, in his master’s shoulder, ready to protect him as he knows his boy is being attacked. He helped raise Castiel, he’s been by his side since he was baby, he swore to protect and serve him. He’s not going anywhere while Castiel is in danger.

“Seir, if you find the person casting the spell you can protect Cas more  _ in the future _ ,” Gabriel impatiently argues with him.

“It’s okay, go,” Castiel tells him softly, running the back on index fingers down the bird’s chest in a tender gesture. “Catch them for me, old friend.”

The bird shoots his master a reluctant glance and if he were human he would have sighed, but in the end he obeys and takes off into the night. Cas watches him disappear in the darkness, something in his stomach stirring when the comfort of his familiar is gone. 

Gabriel’s hand lands on his shoulder, firm and reassuring. “Come on, Cas, don’t go soft on me. You’ll be fine without him.”

“I know,” he mumbles. He turns towards his brother with youthful vulnerability in his eyes. “Will you stay with me?”

“Well, I’ve given my youth for ya, I’m not about to quit now, am I?” 

His brother winks at him playfully and ushers his brother towards the living room. Castiel sits down while Gabriel calls the Fitzgeralds, who track Seir with a little smell the witch gave them earlier in case something just like this happened. It would be better if Gabe could follow the familiar himself but he doesn’t dare leaving Cas alone knowing what could happen to him. The Fitzgeralds will have to step in and fight for their own too.

While Gabe is briefly on the phone with them, a chilling sensation creeps up Castiel’s back. He shudders, clenching his hands, looking over his shoulder. He feels something is wrong. Something’s coming for him. Noticing his strange behaviour, his grandmother looks around, searching for whatever he is sensing, but frowns when she finds nothing out of the ordinary at all.

“My love, are you alright?” 

“Gabriel,” he starts but stops when he sees his breath coming out of his mouth.

_ Good, _ he thinks,  _ a ghost, I can deal with that. _

Gabe puts the phone down. “What?”

“Ghost,” Castiel simply states as he stands up and takes a defensive stance, readying himself to send whatever pitiful ghost tries to haunt a house with two witches back to whatever Hell they came from. Not wanting his grandmother to get in the middle of a confrontation, what with her already delicate state of mind, he asks her to wait in his bedroom. Reluctantly, she obeys him, trusting his judgement.

“How do you know? Can you see it?” 

“No, but my breath,” he explains, gesturing towards the vapour that comes out of his mouth with every word he says. The temperature has also dropped severely in the room.

Once again, Gabriel seems at a loss. “What are you talking about? What about your breath?”

“You can’t see this either? You don’t feel cold?”

“No, Cas, I think you’re just seeing things.”

“I’m not making it up!”

Gabriel rolls his eyes at his brother like he’s being dense. “You’re being cursed into hallucinating, Cas!”

“What for?”

“Beats me, I don’t know. To make the victims more vulnerable? Listen, just try to relax. The moment they realize their spell isn’t working, they’ll quit.”

Castiel nods and sits back down, fighting the urge to look over his shoulder every few seconds. Then there’s the feeling that something’s going to grab his ankles even though the space between the door and the small gap beneath the sofa is too small for anything to hide in there. Unable to shake it off, he sits with his legs on the sofa. He can just tell there’s a presence but he can’t see anything and he can’t find the source. Something is obviously affecting him though because he’s uncharacteristically jumpy and nervous. Every dark corner, every shadow freaks him out a little. He hears his name being whispered when Gabriel obviously does not. He has the unshakeable feeling that there’s something out there by the window, staring at him. With a quick movement of his hands, the curtains abruptly close.

His hands grow cold by the minute. He blows his hot breath into them, trying to warm himself up. Gabriel brings him more tea but Cas turns it away, repulsed by the blood that he sees instead. His brother offers him something to eat. Cas accepts just to have something else to focus on. However, when Gabriel returns with banana bread from the Fitzgeralds’ bakery, Castiel sees them covered in mould and maggots. The little fat, repulsive creatures make the airs on his arms stand.

“You sure you don’t want some?” Gabriel asks him before he takes a bite for himself. Castiel doubles over himself with nausea at the sight.

“Oh, for Satan’s sake, please don’t, not in front of me.”

“Sorry…” his brother mutters with his mouth full of banana bread. When he speaks, Cas can still see small glimpses of maggots between his teeth.

“I’m going to be sick.”

He jumps to his feet and runs to the bathroom, leaning over the sink for a second as he tries to fight the urge to puke. Closing his eyes, he splashes some water on his face and turns the tap off. He sighs, feeling slightly better, and opens his eyes to stare at his reflection on the mirror only to find the decaying image of his mother standing behind him. She looks nothing like he remembers. Her flesh is rotten, her hair is messy and sticking out in all directions and her dress is muddy and torn here and there. She looks like a zombie which deep down he knows makes no sense because she never  _ actually  _ died, she was never buried, this is not what would become of her spirit. But seeing her up and close, right in front of him, with her face all dirty and this pained expression in her face, it sucks all the breath and all the courage right out of him. 

“Mom,” he croaks like a scared child, completely lacking the ability to say or do anything else.

“Help me,” she begs in a ghost-like voice, tone that of a wounded animal. She extends her hands towards him and he can’t help but lean away. Her nails are broken, bloody and dirty. The skin is torn and greenish, he can see glimpses of the bone underneath. He is as disgusted by her appearance as he is horrified to see her in such a state. “Help me, son, he’s coming.”

Swallowing hard through the lump in his throat, he asks, “who’s coming?”

“The devil!” she cries and shudders with dread. “Help me, Cas.”

She reaches out to touch him again, bony fingers inches away from his face, and he can’t help but recoil once more and stumble backwards into the door, too shocked and afraid to be kind. He feels completely out of himself, running on pure instinct which tells him to flee, that this cannot be his mother. He blindly feels for the doorknob, opening and closing the door as if that could stop a ghost. Stunned by the unexpected visitor, Cas fails to call out to his brother for help. Or, actually, comfort, as Gabriel will surely fail to see the apparition. 

He stares, not knowing what else to do, as his mother’s ghost walks through the door, her arms stretched out towards him as she cries and begs for his help.

“Don’t leave me, son, don’t let him take me,” she cries, tears streaming down her face, partly washing the dirt again. His heart aches with pain and the need to help her. Even if she’s not real, even if she’s not his mother, he cannot bear to see her like this.

“I don’t know how to help you!”

“Cas?” 

Gabriel appears at the end of the hallway, alarmed when he heard his brother talking to himself.

When Cas turns in his direction, he gasps and shouts, “behind you!” when he sees no other than the devil himself towering behind his brother. The half-human and half-animal figure is several heads taller than Gabriel and is looking in their direction with a murderous air about him. 

Gabe looks over his shoulder but as before fails to see anything at all. The devil walks right through him and charges towards Cas who jumps backwards at the last minute. The devil misses him, or so he thinks at first, but then realizes he was aiming for his mother all along instead. His attack is vicious and mercilessly, his claws carving into her flesh, splattering blood everywhere. 

“No!”

Castiel throws his arms out to stop him, magic bursting out of him completely out of control. Loki has but a second to, in his true form, cover his master to keep him from harm. The full blast of Castiel’s magic hits him instead, damaging him so badly he shrieks like a wounded animal and his dead weight collapses onto the floor in his animal shape, laying there completely still and silent. Every bit of glass and window nearby explodes and shatters into a million pieces. The books erupt from the shelves, the ground shakes and cracks appear on the walls. But the magic that was supposed to push the devil away from Castiel’s mother fails to have any effect at all in the deity. 

“Cas!” 

Gabriel has only a second to look down at his familiar. He freezes and a part of him truly fears it might be dead, and as hard as it may be he has to push that thought out of his mind for a moment and focus on his brother. Jumping to his feet, he hurries towards him. Cas can barely hear him over the gut wrenching cries and screams of his mother. His brother kneels in front of him, blocking Satan and his mother out of view, and he shakes his shoulders frantically. There’s glass in his hair and cuts in his arms. Cas barely notices this as he’s being shaken. 

“Cas, it’s not real! You need to calm down!”

Satan raises his arm to strike back down and when he does Cas could  _ swear _ he feels the blood splattering in his face and he can hear it landing on Gabriel’s back. His mother’s wails make him sick, make him want to die. His heart beats so fast in his heart, it’s like a bomb about to go off. He can’t breathe and he doesn’t want to either. He wants it to end.

“Make it stop!” Castiel begs, shutting his eyes tightly and covering his ears with his hands. 

Outside, a wild thunder storm breaks out. Rain pours in through the broken windows and the curtains flutter wildly in the strong wind. The noise of the storm is not nearly as loud as his mother’s cries though, not enough to drown them out. 

“Make it stop, please, make it stop!”

“Cas, it’s a fear spell! You need to calm down or it can cause your heart to fail!”

Gabriel grabs him by the arms and forces him to his feet. Cas’ legs shake and he’s almost dead weight but Gabe manages to lead him back to the living room. Castiel collapses on the sofa, his hands still covering his ears, and he starts rocking back and forth like a madman. He can still hear her mother’s screams from the hallway.

“Knock me out, put me to sleep, knock me out, Gabriel!” he yells, trying to drown out the noises he doesn’t want to hear.

“I can’t do that, I need you to be awake and I need you to calm down. It’ll be worse if you fall asleep, the nightmares will be uncontrollable.”

Shaking his head over and over again, he continues to plead, though he doesn’t know what else Gabriel can do for him. “I cannot take it! You can’t hear her screaming anymore!”

“Hear who?”

“My mother!” Cas responds, opening his eyes which are bloodshot and full of tears. The look of madness and horror in those blue eyes scare Gabriel shitless. “He’s  _ butchering _ her!”

Finally understanding the situation better, Gabriel snaps his fingers to turn the stereo on, as loud as possible, with whatever radio station comes first. It’s some classical music bullshit that won’t do the trick, so he changes it to rock music which plays so loud it’s painful and head-splitting; perfect for the occasion. 

“Stay here!” he shouts over the music. He can barely hear himself. Gabriel dashes out the room and comes back with Loki resting on his shoulder. The familiar doesn’t move but judging by Gabriel’s lack of panic, he must be alive.

Gabriel then sits next to Cas and pulls him into his arms, rocking him like he did when the boy was just that, a boy. Castiel shakes uncontrollably and pulls from his hair, trying hard to hold tears, like a scared child. He tries to fight the spell, tries to fight the fear, to be brave, but he’s in too deep already.

Fifteen minutes later, it all stops at once. Cas no longer feels cold and there’s no dark presence in the house. He pulls away from his brother’s arms and stops the music with a snap of his fingers. The house is quiet, except for the storm that is still unfolding outside, making all the furniture close to the windows wet. The tightness in his chest relents, the air fills his lungs without difficult. He doesn’t feel better though, the traumatizing images of her butchered mother still plastered in his mind. The intense fear relents, yes, but his heart aches just the same.

Still shaking, he swallows hard and concludes, “it’s over.”

Gabriel stares, agape, lost for words. Castiel is pale, sickly so.

“Cas—”

His brother holds a hand up to stop him and averts his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Cas,” Gabriel insists but his brother just shakes his head and hugs his knees closer to his chest. He’s trying to calm down, to stop the storm, but he cannot collect his thoughts. In his head, the echoes of his mother’s screams haunt him.

_ It’s not real, it was never real,  _ he tells himself.

But it  _ felt _ real.

Seir comes back with no new developments; once again he was only able to follow the magic back to a certain neighbourhood in the next town but neither him or the werewolves were able to find anything useful. The storm that broke out and the consequent hail that followed certainly didn’t help the search.

Upon his return, Seir settles in Castiel’s arms. The witch holds him like a child holds a teddy bear for comfort. Castiel stares blankly at the floor for hours while Gabriel keeps guard, fearing another attack. When the witching hour has passed and the sun begins to rise, Gabriel tentatively suggests they go to sleep. Cas nods silently and plays along but he knows he’s not going to be able to sleep at all. He had dark bags under his eyes before but now he looks utterly destroyed. Gabriel tries to make him pasta on Saturday for lunch, but Cas can barely eat. Worried that this is an emotional and mental injury he cannot possibly heal or understand, Gabriel personally calls John Winchester and asks him to let Dean visit, promising to be home with a shotgun the whole time, just in case (how savage, but that’s the language John understands).

When Dean comes over, Gabriel opens the door for him and briefly explains what happened. Or what he thinks happened, as Cas won’t talk about it. Dean had assumed something went down, what with the unpredictable storm that occurred during the early morning. Also, the state to the house is a pretty big giveaway, it’s a complete mess. 

He finds Castiel in his room. A chilly wind comes through the naked windows. They don’t say a word to each other. Dean, still mad but understanding above all, and dying to protect and care for Cas, simply takes his shoes off and climbs into bed next to him. Castiel rolls onto his side and rests his head on Dean’s chest. Seir jumps from Castiel’s chest to Dean’s when this happens, sharing a look of almost gratitude with the mortal before the bird closes its eyes and nuzzles between the boys. The covers in the bed move on their own to lay on top of them.

Strong arms hold Castiel close, soft lips kiss his forehead. Castiel closes his eyes and tears gather in his eyelashes. Dean says nothing when he feels them making the front of his shirt wet.

“Why don’t you try to sleep for a few hours, sweetheart?” Dean whispers lovingly, any trails of anger or resentment absolutely absent from his tone.. “I’ll watch over you.”

Cas nods. It takes him a while but Dean’s presence and hearing his heartbeat loud in his ear calm him down. Exhausted, both emotionally and physically, eventually he dozes off. Dean, however, is awake the whole time, wondering, worrying, what is going to happen to Cas the next time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blood splattering: terror-native-live


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is gonna be a rough one, especially for Cas.

When Garth tells the others what happened, they all decide to pay Cas a visit and check on him. Gabriel fetches the boy from his bedroom, where Cas was still sleeping. At first he wonders if it is better to let Cas rest and have some privacy to deal with the events of the previous night, but he ends up deciding that spending time with his friends and eating some of the baked goods Garth brought might distract him if not cheer him up. 

Truth is they don’t know what to expect, if the killer will try to cast another curse or not, if they _can_ or not. They have to wait a week between each murder attempt but since nothing happened to anyone but Cas, since the person that was really meant to be cursed was never affected by it, they’re unsure how that will affect the sacrifice attempt. If they are questioning this, they can only assume that their enemy is too; if they’re curious, the other might be too, so they fear the killer will attempt another attack before the seven days are up. At least that’s what Gabriel would do if he was in the other person’s shoes, since they don’t give a shit how many people they hurt. The uncertainty, not knowing whether something’s going to happen or not, is almost worse than sitting around knowing something awful’s about to happen. At least then they can prepare. Now though they’re completely in the dark and it drives Castiel mad, so Gabriel thinks a nice distraction could do him well, for the sake of his mental sanity.

On a positive note, at least Castiel’s appetite is somewhat back although he still looks pretty damn tired and pale. He looks older, beaten down. With just one glance at Castiel’s face and all the broken stuff around the house, all his friends have the sense not to ask many questions; it’s plain obvious something intense happened the previous night, to put it lightly. Gabriel has cleaned the glass by now but there’s still an obvious wreckage all around, things out of place that the witch hasn’t bothered to clean up yet, too tired himself to care about looks. He barely slept himself, spent most of the night tending to his familiar, helping Loki heal from the wounds accidentally inflicted by Castiel. He’s recovering but weak, gladly resting most of the day by his master’s side, feeding from his energy.

They try to keep things normal, if only for one day, avoiding topics of dark magic, the end of the world and ghosts and witches. They try to cheer Castiel up, Dean sitting at all times real close to him, with his hands all over Cas. He showers his boyfriend in kisses and gentle touches, saving his anger for later, for when Castiel isn’t hurting anymore. They’re supposed to end up together anyway, Dean will have time to be mad about this later.

For the most part it seems to work, except for when he needs to go to the bathroom and pointedly avoids even heading in the direction of the one that’s in the ground floor, opting instead to take a longer trip upstairs. He cannot even look at the hallway without unintentionally visualizing all the blood splattered in the walls, the ceiling.

In the end they decide to stay for dinner and spend the night. Dean has to call John and let him know, he has all his friends shouting in the back to prove that he’s not lying and that he’ll be safe in a house full of people. Thankfully John takes mercy on him and allows him to stay. They provide good company; they light a fire in the living room and sit around with covers to warm themselves up—it’s bloody cold without windows and the witches don’t want to waste their energy in keeping the house warm—, and talk for hours about everything and anything they come up with that is innocent and funny and entertaining, anything but dark or sad topics. They manage to make Cas smile once or twice, which is no small achievement.

However, preparing for the worse, Cas once more heads to bed early planning to wake up before 3 am strikes. Garth, Benny and Charlie hang out in the living room for a little longer before each takes a guest room for themselves. That early morning, or late night, Dean wakes up with Castiel and keeps watch with Gabriel downstairs while the others sleep upstairs. 

Castiel and Dean sit together, holding hands, going through albums of photos of Castiel’s family. From time to time Cas will nervously glance in the direction of the clock. Dean does his best to seem calm and pulled together when inside he’s going mad with worry and anticipation himself, but he pretends for Castiel as best as he can. 

“It’s going to be okay, Cas,” he whispers time and time again when Cas checks the time obsessively.

Eventually, as he realizes Cas is not distracted enough, Dean puts the photos aside and drags him back to bed. Dean steals Castiel’s concentration as best he knows how to, making Cas lay down in bed with him. They make out, slow and sensual, open-mouthed kisses that are not too wet or too fiery, because it’s not the time for that, but they’re enough to light a fire in Castiel, one that gives him hope and courage. He feels loved. Dean touches him all over; he cups the side of his head, his thumb softly stroking his cheek, then his hands slowly trail down Castiel’s body, patiently, with tenderness, exploring and loving the body they touch. Dean puts his hand on the small of Castiel’s back and brings him closer so that their bodies are fully pressed up against each other. They get lost in each other, forgetting anything else for just a little while. Dean is a familiar and reassuring weight on top of Castiel, giving him a very good reason to continue with what he’s doing. He’ll do anything to keep his soulmate safe.

“I love you,” Dean whispers in between kisses, “we’re gonna get through this. I’m gonna take care of you.”

3 am comes and 3 am goes. Nothing happens. When the sun begins to rise, the three of them almost simultaneously sigh with relief and go back to sleep. When they wake up later that morning, it’s almost lunch time. His friends are up and about, have been for a few hours, but allowed the witches and Dean to sleep in knowing they had been up earlier. They’re making pizza. It seems to be going well, it certainly smells amazing, of oregano and tomato sauce and all that good stuff. Given that Garth has his parents’ recipe, they know it’ll _taste_ great. Having all his loved ones there to support him, Castiel starts to bounce back to a better mood. He still gravitates around Dean like he cannot get enough of his boyfriend’s attention, healing with every bit of love Dean freely gives him. Every smile Dean dedicates to him and every kind gesture his friends show him reminds Cas of why he’s doing this, why he must take the pain and endure it.

They’re just about to sit down for lunch, standing around the large kitchen, laughing and chatting, when Castiel suddenly begins to choke around nothing, absolutely nothing at all. At first he tries to clear his throat, swallow and breathe, without even thinking about it, but when he inhales he feels something totally different and totally _wrong_. This burning sensation runs all through his respiratory system and he coughs again, more roughly this time, but nothing changes, nothing comes out.

Dean looks to the side just as Castiel abruptly gets to his feet, one hand on the table and the other around his throat. He starts to make this awful choking sound, like he’s trying to breathe in air but he’s coming up short with complete hollowness inside of him, and everyone stops what they’re doing to stare at him.

“He’s choking!” Dean cries.

“He’s being cursed again.” Gabriel runs to his brother to try and assess the situation better, but he doesn’t really understand what’s happening. He needs more information to be able to help but Cas isn’t able to speak. “Seir, follow the magic!”

Charlie thinks quickly, turning towards the bird at once before it’s gone, stretching her arm towards Seir. “No, don’t! It’s pointless, we need to find the person being cursed instead. If we save them, we save Cas!”

“How the fuck are we going to do that?” Gabriel growls in disagreement. If they kill the enemy, it _all_ stops, permanently.

Seir, not knowing what to do, looks back and forth between them, panicking as his master chokes and he’s completely helpless and unable to help him. He hears Castiel’s thoughts, the wordless agony inside of him, and it tears him apart.

Cas turns towards Dean, knowing he can’t help but somewhat begging him with his eyes to do it nonetheless. He fists the front of Dean’s shirt with inhuman force, trying but failing to describe with words what’s happening to him. He tries to inhale but it only makes things worse. He tries to cough and spit out whatever is blocking his respiratory system but it feels blocked and full of this substantial, invisible nothingness that won’t let anything else in.

“Cas! Cas, no, no, Cas, breathe!” Dean tells him as he breaks into an instant panic. He’s so easily scared when Castiel’s life is on the line.

The burning sensation inside of him is painful. From his nostrils all the way into his lungs, he feels both hollow and full. He pointlessly scratches his neck, leaving angry red lines in his skin, and does a full body wave before he collapses on all fours on the floor and starts coughing out water.

“He’s not choking, he’s drowning.” Charlie bites his lower lip, closing her eyes to think clearly while the awful sound of Cas vomiting water as he simultaneously tries to breathe in through his nose assaults her ears. “Okay, it’s winter so— has to be an indoor pool— I— I don’t know anyone with an indoor pool. It must be a public pool.”

“Fuck, there’s a swimming competition at school today!” Benny exclaims. He’s nervously running a hand through his short hair, going crazy as he stares at how Castiel drowns while he does absolutely nothing to stop it. He can’t tear his eyes away, like it’s his duty to watch, to suffer alongside Castiel, because looking away and detaching himself from the situation would be too easy and wrong; Cas doesn’t get the same luxury, he’s got no easy way out.

Without a second to waste, Gabriel orders, “Seir, go stop that competition! Do whatever you must, cause an electric short circuit, ring the fire alarms! Make sure people get the fuck out of the water. Go, go, go!”

Seir disappears out the window immediately, flying at a speed that could just not be possible if it were a real bird.

Meanwhile Cas keeps vomiting water, which begins to form a pool on the floor where he’s kneeling. His clothes start to stick to him as if imaginary rain was pouring down on him and his hair becomes as soaked as when he’s just taken a shower. Dean crouches in front of him, trying to hold him up. Cas is clawing at his shoulders, his body jerking with discomfort and that piercing, burning sensation in his lungs, nose and throat. He feels full in the worst way possible, like he’s about to burst inside out.

“Gabriel, he’s turning blue!” Dean cries. The two lovebirds share a look of utter fear of losing the other. Dean cups his cheek and whispers, “just hold on, sweetheart, just a few more minutes, please, Cas, Seir’s going to stop it. Please, Cas, just hold on.”

Cas tries to resist, to hold his breath, to be brave and strong for Dean. He uses his magic to fight the curse but not knowing what he's up against, what spell he’s trying to counter or who is casting, makes his attempts as useful as hunting blindfolded. The lack of oxygen clouds his mind and every rational thought is replaced by suffering and dread. Ultimately Castiel’s eyes roll back into his skull and he collapses against Dean. His body tenses up, his limbs jerk uncontrollably a few times. Small strings of water still come out of his mouth but he’s going limp in Dean’s arms.

“No, no, no, Cas, come on, wake up, buddy!”

Charlie chokes on a panicked sob and covers her mouth. She’s too stunned to even cry. Benny and Garth look at each other, not knowing what the fuck to do or say. Gabriel takes Castiel from Dean’s arms, although the hunter reluctantly allows him to peel his soulmate from him, and starts frantically whispering things in a language the others don’t understand. Castiel's body shakes uglily but his eyes remain closed.

“God, what are you doing? Is there nothing you can do to stop the curse?”

Gabriel shakes his head. “I’m trying to keep him alive for longer. Seir is almost there!”

“Break the spell, Gabriel, he’s dying!”

“No, he can do this, he’s strong!”

Enraged, Dean grabs him by the front of his shirt and growls, “he’s fucking dying! If he dies it’s on you!”

“Dean, stop it!” 

Benny lunges forwards and hooks his arms under Dean’s armpits, pulling him back with him. Dean kicks and waves his arms, trashing out of Benny’s grip. Gabriel continues to whisper unintelligible things, eyeing Dean cautiously, until Cas suddenly arches his back and gasps loudly, his eyes flying open. He falls out of his brother’s arm and rolls into the floor where he starts spitting water for the last few times, panting hard as he tries to fill his lungs with much needed air again. Benny finally lets Dean go and his boyfriend hurries to Castiel’s side.

“Cas. Sweetheart, are you okay? Can you breathe now?”

Still but a little blue, Castiel nods while he massages this throat. He tries to speak but it hurts and his voice comes out hoarse. His mouth tastes strongly of chlorine. Defeated, he slumps in the kitchen floor over the water that formed a considerably sized puddle and closes his eyes. He’s still trying to catch his breath but it hurts to do so. He’s lost his appetite again and with another murder attempt, he has sure as hell lost his good mood.

“This has been some weekend,” Gabriel mutters as he rests against the wall, letting his head fall back as he sighs.

A glare from Dean shuts him right up.

Dean and Cas spend the rest of the day arguing. Dean is yelling at the top of his lungs, Gabriel can hear him all the day from downstairs. Cas tries to appease him and reason with him and it just triggers Dean even more that Castiel is so resigned to go through this. The worst part is how calm he is, how he tries to reason with Dean and convince him that this is the logical way to proceed. Dean would very much prefer it if Cast were yelling at him too. Dean wants him to quit the spell before it kills him or traumatizes him (even further) but Castiel refuses to do so on the grounds that it is actually working. No matter how unpleasant the situation, his magic should be strong enough to keep him alive for longer than a regular mortal and then there’s also Gabriel there to help him achieve that. But all of Castiel’s arguments are theoretical, betting all their cards in an assumption, and even though so far it seems to be working, Dean is not convinced by that, it’s not enough. Betting Castiel’s life is not acceptable. Cas thinks it’s a good thing he never told Dean about dreaming that Death followed him, he would be losing his mind if he knew.

When Dean leaves that evening it’s a heartbreaking, _bitter_ goodbye. Dean’s face is a mix of frustration, exasperation, anguish, concern and stress. He has to return home because John will not allow him to stay over at Castiel’s knowing none of his friends will do the same and it kills him to leave Cas alone knowing that someone could indirectly attempt to murder him at any given moment. Cas would go with him if he could, but it isn’t practical; he needs to be home where Gabriel can aid him.

“Let me know if… anything happens,” he tells Castiel in a grave, oh so tired voice. He’s not looking at Cas, he’s too mad and has had enough of seeing his boyfriend look like he does now, like a shell of what he used to be.

Castiel squeezes his hand as he holds the door open for him. “I promise.”

Dean leans in and gives him a chaste and long peck on the lips. He breathes in long and hard, trying to fight the tears. Leaving is giving him separation anxiety.

“I love you, Cas,” he whispers. He doesn’t mean to but it sounds like a goodbye. 

The rest of the day and, thankfully, the rest of the night goes by without anything interesting to report. Cas gets a few hours of sleep despite being hyper vigilant, he’s just that tired. He misses Dean in the dead of night, he wishes Dean could be there with him because scarier than dying is doing so away from his soulmate but it is what it is and nothing happens so he calls it a win.

School is cancelled the next day. A big gas leaked caused an explosion at school which interrupted the gym competition. It was quite minor, a small fire broke out and nobody got hurt but the whole grounds had to be evacuated under the possibility that there could be another leak somewhere. It works out great for them because the school administration cannot reopen any building until a full inspection has been conducted to determine that it’s safe to have the kids back in so they can spend the day with Cas, including Sam this time. 

“You didn’t have to cause an explosion,” Castiel tells Seir as he shakes his head disapprovingly. “That was a bit much.”

Seir gives him this look like he’s lucky that’s all his familiar did, for there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for Castiel. Gabriel is once more thoroughly proud of the spirit that protects his master so well, he’s always been a good ally to their family and just about the only other being that helped him raise the kid.

Dean is in a sulky mood. He’s quiet and rarely participates in conversations. He holds Castiel’s hand a little too tightly, like he’s afraid the witch might disappear and be out of reach forever if he lets go. Castiel tries to comfort him but Dean doesn’t want to hear it. The rest pretend they don’t notice and try to cheer them both up. Cas plays along but there’s no winning Dean over. When they leave, Dean gives Castiel a silent and long hug before quietly stepping out into the porch. Cas wonders if Dean’s going to resent him for this. He can take it, though, if it means keeping him and others safe, he just hopes Dean comes round sooner or later. Especially because Castiel knows that should the roles be inverted, Dean would have also sacrificed himself for this spell.

On Tuesday, classes are still cancelled. It turns out they _actually_ found a gas leak and it needs to be repaired. There are other rooms at the school that still haven’t been inspected but when the leak is repaired they will open anyway while making sure they keep those other less important rooms without gas until they’re given the all clear. The gang once more takes this opportunity to visit Castiel and they stay over for dinner and a movie.

It’s a dark, cloudy day and night comes early. It’s chilly but thankfully the windows are already repaired. Benny and Garth prepare dinner for everybody; spaghetti and meatballs. It’s one of Dean’s favourites but his lack of enthusiasm is absolute. He barely talks, barely looks into Castiel’s direction. It’s growing increasingly awkward so Cas pulls him aside to talk in his room.

“Dean, if you’re angry at me, if you don’t want to be here, you can go home,” Castiel calmly tells him. 

Dean takes offence to it right away. “You don’t want me here?”

“That’s not what I said at all,” Cas replies, raising his eyebrows and giving him a pointed look. “You know what I mean.”

“Well, what do you want me to do, Cas?” Dean asks him in a dangerously low voice, coming at Cas in an almost threatening way but Castiel knows how to read him, he sees the desperation with which Dean moves and talks. “Do you want me to pretend I’m okay with this? Seeing you suffer like that, how the hell do you expect me to react? I feel like you’re slipping through my fingers and I’m just letting it happen.”

“It’s my choice, Dean.”

“And that’s supposed to make it okay? For fuck’s sake, Cas!” Dean exclaims, bearing his teeth and running his hands through his hair. “What the fuck am I supposed to do? What would _you_ do if it were me in your place? I’m not going to just stand around and watch you do this to yourself and give you a fucking pat in the back like you’re some hero.”

“Have a little more faith in me, I can do this, I am strong.”

“But what if you can’t? You said it yourself, you don’t know the limits of your magic, nobody does. What if it gets to be too much, what if at some point your magic can’t save you? I don’t want to lose you, okay? Call me a selfish son of a bitch,” he laughs bitterly, throwing his arms out, “send me to hell for forsaking an entire town for ya but I’d do it, Cas, I’d do it _gladly_ , man, cause you said I was your happy ending and you’re mine and I’m not letting you take that away from me!”

“Dean, just—”

Before Cas can say anything else, anything to attempt and surely fail to convince Dean, the dam inside of his boyfriend breaks and he clashes their mouth together. He licks hotly into his mouth, shoving Cas backwards into the bedroom door. His kiss is all teeth and tongue, desperate and fast. Dean presses his body against him, chest to thighs, taking all he wants, all he doesn’t want to lose. Castiel hands are on him quickly, pulling at his hair, running down Dean’s back, feeling his rocky spine on their way to his hips. Cas pushes him towards the bed, they stumble together rather ungraciously as they try to continue kissing. When Dean’s knees hit the back of the bed and he sits down, Cas straddles his lap and quickly removes his shirt. Dean kisses him all over; his chest, his clavicle, shoulders, nipples. He squeezes the muscles he feels under his fingers, he takes comfort in Castiel’s warm body, in the fact that he’s still there, alive with him.

“Cas,” he whispers, he pleads.

Castiel grinds against him urgently, desperate to break the distance, physical and metaphorical, that there may be between them. He wants all of Dean’s love, he doesn’t want to argue anymore. He wants that body that has become his church, his place of worship. His own body has been through so much lately, he just wants to feel good again for once, to recharge his soul with something positive and pure. 

Dean’s breath catches in his throat and he lays his head on Cas’ chest for a moment, listening to his heart beating fast and strong… that stubborn heart to keep beating against all odds.

The half witch then pulls away just enough to maneuver Dean further up the bed where together they take their clothes off in a hurry and they embrace each other, relishing the feeling of skin on skin, while Cas works Dean up in preparation. Dean holds him close, not letting Cas be more than a few inches away from him at all times. When Cas fucks him is fast and messy but there’s no time to do it any other way, because they will fight if they do or Dean will break or someone will come and interrupt them. 

Dean forces himself to keep keep his eyes open at all times, staring into the blue of Castiel’s, or his lovely face, or the shape of his shoulders or his chest, anywhere his eyes land, memorizing every bit of his boyfriend like he’s terrified it’s the last time he’ll get to see it. Between groans and moans, Castiel whispers words of adoration until the pleasure gets too high and the words die in his throat while he cums inside of Dean. He doesn’t stop though, he continues sharply thrusting into him while Dean jacks himself off into completion too.

They don’t move for a minute, they just breathe each other’s air, sharing lazy kisses. Dean closes his eyes when he feels overwhelmed with emotion. He doesn’t want to lose this. He just could not overcome such a loss.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Cas tells him eventually.

“Swear it… Promise me you’ll fight, Cas, with everything you’ve got.”

“I promise. I’ll always come back to you, Dean… Now come on, it’s time for dinner.”

Joining the rest of the group downstairs is a little bit awkward. It’s obvious by their dishevelled hair and the fact that Cas put another shirt on that something went down. Not to mention Gabriel teases them, to piss them off and to make light of the situation at the same time.

“Really? You couldn’t wait until your friends were gone? Damn, Cas, _now_ you turn into a sex maniac witch?”

Castiel blushes profusely and practically hides behind Dean.

“I’m not a sex maniac,” he mutters under his breath with embarrassment. Dean can’t help but chuckle at the cute look on his face and plant a kiss on his cheek. He hates that he can’t stay mad at Cas but he also loves him more for it.

“Go shower, you stink of sex,” Benny teases them with a sly smirk.

“Oh, come on.” Dean shakes his head and squints at him like he’s offended but a smile pulls at the corners of his lips. He’s high in endorphins and drunk with how much he loves Cas. With his arm around Castiel’s waist, he pulls him a little closer. He’s so in love with the guy it feels like his chest is going to burst.

After dinner, they play a movie in the projector. Dean can’t believe they don’t have a TV; even _he_ has a TV and every shitt motel he ever went to also had one, but it’s actually nice to have the movie projected onto the white sheet they hang on the wall instead. It kind of feels like having their own private movie theatre. Charlie, Cas, Dean and Benny sit together on a couch; it’s a tight fit but it’s also kind of nice to be that close. Dean has his arm around Cas, Benny has his around Charlie. Garth and Gabriel, with Loki of course resting on his shoulders, each take an armchair. 

From time to time Dean gets distracted, looking over at Cas instead of watching the movie. Castiel feels him staring and sometimes he looks up and kisses him before focusing back on the movie. Dean pulls him a little closer, if that’s even possible, and runs his hand through his boyfriend’s hair.

They _almost_ make it to the end of The Third Man. The movie has captured all of them, even though Gabriel has already seen it. Movies, he says, are one of the few things he loves about humans and Earth and for which, in his humble opinion, it would be a shame to bring on the apocalypse. Dean loves Holly’s character (the main one), he feels the two of them are one of a kind; stubborn, mouthy and maybe just a bit too hopeful that the people they care about will act the way they want them to.

They’re in the ferris wheel scene when Cas suddenly jerks and bends over himself, grunting like someone’s just punched him hard as he grabs his stomach in pain. Everyone turns towards him immediately, knowing it has to be part of the spell that binds him to the humans in town. Gabriel snaps his fingers to turn on the lights.

“Cas, what is it?” Dean asks him, trying to guide him to lean back against the sofa. When Castiel does move, he sees blood staining the front of his boyfriend’s shirt. Cas pulls his hand away to take a look and finds it covered in blood.

Stunned, he states, “I think I’ve been stabbed.”

In unison they all move, jumping backwards to give Cas space while Dean helps him lay down on the floor, quickly applying pressure on the wound. Blood is gushing out at an alarming rate already, the cut is deep and must have torn something important. Castiel stares down at his stomach in shock, hands trembling just above Dean’s.

“Cas, sweetheart—” The words die in his mouth. This amount of blood, this is serious. He forces himself to look away, finding Gabriel in the room. “We need to take him to a hospital!”

Gabriel shakes his head. “He stays. I can do more for him than any doctor. Besides we can’t, how the fuck are we going to explain more stabs that magically appear on him?”

Almost on cue, as if to prove Gabriel right, Castiel cries out in pain as another deep cut appears near his hip. That one hurts so much his vision goes white for a second. He can feel the invisible knife piercing through the skin, breaking it, breaking everything on its path. He shuts his eyes and grits his teeth, his muscles tensing in reaction to the pain.

“Someone get me a fucking towel or something!” Dean yells.

Garth kneels next to Dean and applies pressure in the cut near the hip while Charlie runs out of the room to get towels and Gabriel heads to the secret library to get ingredients he had already prepared for this occasion while he yells at a confused Benny to get the blood from the fridge. Castiel’s grandmother stands in a corner, covering her mouth with her hands, completely horrified with what’s happening to her grandson. It only makes it worse that she can’t help at all.

“Cas, just—just hold on. God, just—”

Dean meets his eyes while Castiel waits for him to say something, _anything_ , like promise something stupid like _everything’s going to be okay_ but Dean is lost for words, stammering incoherently, living his worst nightmare… _again._ Cas has his jaw set and averts his eyes, focusing on the ceiling instead. He’s breathing hard, trying his damn hardest not to cry out in pain and stay still. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a logical side screams through the turmoil that the more agitated he becomes, the more rapidly his blood will flow and the quicker he will bleed out. He has to calm down. The pain is severe though and he’s losing blood rapidly through the slash in his stomach, primarily.

“Hold on, Cas, I’m coming,” Gabriel yells from the library. He violently sends the couch flying backwards to the side of the room with a quick movement of his hand to make room and kneels in front of Dean and Garth, mixing a weird looking unguent with a fucking terrible smell, in a mortar. 

A new slash appears across the young witch’s cheek, long but superficial, and Cas can’t help the deep groan that rumbles in his throat as he shuts his eyes in response.

Benny appears from the kitchen. He is sharp and focused, partially numb under the stress, and delivers the plastic bags of blood to Gabriel without a word. Gabriel puts the mortar down and sets up the blood transfusion, forcing himself to calm down for a second to put the needle inside his brother properly. Once the transfusion starts, Gabriel has the blood bag hanging a few feet above the ground with magic. He had prepared for this type of tragedy.

When that’s done, he grabs the mortar again and orders the others to remove the shirt. Dean rips his boyfriend’s shirt open with a quick and violent movement, buttons flying off in all directions. Gabriel applies the strange cream in the injuries but the one in the stomach is bleeding so much it washes the cream away.

“Dammit, Cas,” Gabe mutters as he tries to apply more. “Put pressure over it!”

Dean and Garth obey, laying their hands over the injuries and the cream Gabriel put on Cas. Gabriel closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and mutters ancient spells that are meant to heal his brother faster.

“Cas, I need your help. Hey, Cas, listen to me.” He slaps his brother's cheek twice, forcing him to concentrate. Cas opens his eyes but he can barely focus his vision. His face is twisted with anguish and he is trying not to bend over in pain away from his friends’ touch. “The cut in your stomach, it’s deep. I need you to help me heal it, okay? I’ve got the rest but I’m gonna need your help with that.”

“It hurts,” Castiel groans through gritted teeth.

Gabriel puts on a brave face and smiles at him rather softly. “I know, baby bro, I know, but I need you to focus, okay? Hey, you’re always boasting you’re so much better than me, it’s time to show me, huh? Come on, Cas, I know you can do it.”

“Okay,” Cas sighs. He closes his eyes as he tries to focus on healing himself. It’s hard though, to pull his thoughts together enough to form a coherent thought that isn’t a voice in his head that screams _pain_. He grabs Dean’s wrist, just to have something to ground himself, as he sends all his energy to the biggest of the injuries.

“That’s my boy. Just stop the bleeding, Cas, focus on that.”

For a moment he thinks he’s got it, or at least enough to help Gabriel stop the bleeding, but then he feels a new stab in the back of his left thigh and another one soon after digging deep into his shoulder. A wounded, loud sound bursts out of him without permission when the knife cuts through the skin and blood begins to pool underneath him. He inhales sharply, shuddering, like he’s drowning in his suffering. His nails dig so deep into Dean’s forearm it draws blood but Dean barely registers it.

Dean, finally having enough of this madness, exclaims, “break the fucking spell, Gabriel! It’s too much, he’s losing too much blood!”

“No!” Cas shouts in response, gripping Dean even more tightly. He takes a deep, shuddering breath to say something else but then receives _another_ stab in the upper left part of his chest. This ugly, hollow noise comes out of his mouth and then he coughs blood right into Dean’s face.

They all stop for a moment to look at Dean, even Cas. Blood is splattered all over his face and shirt, and this utter expression of shock and horror is frozen in the hunter’s face. Gabriel waits for his reaction, wondering if he’s going to pass out or just stay there, kneeling in shock. Charlie, who has just returned, looks like she’s going to be sick from the scene she ran into.

Against all odds, Dean stands up and runs out of the door. They all watch him leave in bewilderment, confused as fuck because no one would have ever expected Dean to be the one to run out on Cas. Charlie doesn’t waste time though, she takes his place and puts a towel underneath the injury in Castiel’s shoulder and wraps bandages around his thigh with impressive focus and determination. Gabriel puts more unguent over the stab in Castiel’s stomach and orders Charlie to put a towel and pressure over it, which she does right away. He then applies a generous amount of unguent in his brother’s chest and cradles his head while he applies pressure in the injury.

“You’re going to be fine,” Gabriel repeats stubbornly over and over again while Cas looks at him in shock, still spitting blood out of his mouth. He frowns up at Gabriel, finding no comfort in his brother’s faith, but he keeps trying his damn hardest to put his magic to good use, to save his own life.

A moment later they all hear heavy footsteps coming from the front door and then the telltale sound of a firearm cocking.

In a menacing and cold tone, gun pointed at Gabriel, Dean doesn’t ask but orders, “undo the spell, Gabriel. Set him free.”

Gabriel is anything but intimidated. Looking back over his shoulder, he narrows his eyes at Dean as he still applies pressure in his brother’s wound. “You’re not going to shoot me.”

“Oh, yeah? Try me!”

“You think bullets can kill me, _boy_?”

“I ain’t no boy, I am a hunter, and these are no regular bullets, they’re witch killing bullets.”

Loki hisses threateningly at Dean and gets in a position to attack him but Gabriel calmly tells him, “don’t. He’s not going to shoot me.”

Almost in a challenging way, Gabriel turns his back on Dean and continues whispering healing spells. Cas stretches his hand towards Dean, above his head.

“Don’t move,” Garth gently tells him, bringing his arm back down. 

Dean’s whole body trembles and pulls his mouth into a thin line. He hates this, he hates this so goddamn much. It’s like being a child again, helpless and useless. He looks over at Seir, who is standing on a furniture, at a loss for how he can possibly help. Dean waits for him to do something, to help him force Gabriel to act, but Seir won’t go against his master’s orders, so Dean tears his eyes away to focus back on his boyfriend. Unable to speak, tasting the metallic blood in his mouth while he struggles to breathe through his nose, Cas gives him this pleading look, a silent plea to stop, that ultimately breaks Dean. He puts the gun down with tears running down his cheeks. Benny tentatively approaches him, takes the gun from him and puts an arm around him, ushering him back towards Cas.

“He needs you,” he whispers to his friend.

“Gabriel, can you transfer some of the injuries to me?” Garth asks in a stroke of inspiration. “I heal faster, even faster than you. I can take it.”

Castiel shakes his head in disagreement but Gabriel and Garth both ignore him.

“You can’t take all of these at once though, and I won’t be able to help you heal.” 

“Fine, give me the ones in the face, leg and shoulder.”

“That might help him heal faster...” Gabriel agrees. “I need to prepare a spell for that. Are you sure though? It’s going to be painful as fuck. And your parents are going to be pissed.”

“I can deal with my parents later.”

“Dean,” Gabriel calls his brother in law. There’s definitely an edge of resentment in the way he speaks but he needs help nonetheless and Castiel needs him. “Come, take my place. Apply pressure on the wound. I’ll be right back. Benny, go get more bandages for Garth, he’s going to need them.”

Gabriel trades places with Dean and hurries off into the library to get a book first and then runs to the kitchen. 

“Don’t—” Cas grunts and almost immediately starts coughing up blood again.

Dean shushes him and tries to smile down at him, but he has no idea if it turns out the way he means it, if he can even fake a smile in that situation.

“Shut up, Cas, you’re not in charge anymore,” he tries to joke. His voice breaks though and he swallows hard through a sob. The state Cas is in, it’s like out of a horror movie. There’s some poor bastard out there getting attacked by the killer, not knowing that every time the psycho misses it’s Castiel who gets the blow instead. He’s not going to get a thank you, no recognition, he will keep being the town weirdo when he actually deserves the world. “Just hold on, help is coming, sweetheart.”

Seconds later Gabriel reappears from the kitchen, carrying the book under his armpit while he mixes ingredients in a new bowl. His bloodstained hands leave everything he touches painted red but he doesn’t give that a second thought.

“Okay, so, Benny, exchange places with Garth. Garth, lay down parallel to Cas on the floor and—man up, I guess.”

The boys obey. Cas tries to move, to stop them, but Gabriel forces him down easily with his magic which proves just how weak he is; in a normal situation, Gabe should not be able to do that. Even as a young child, Castiel was always much stronger.

“Don’t fight me, Cas,” his brother warns him with a pointed look.

“Just relax, try to heal yourself,” Dean whispers to him, leaning forwards to kiss his forehead. 

Gabriel kneels between the two young boys laying down on the carpet. He puts the book down, opens it on the right page and reads through it once more, just to make sure he gets the words right and doesn’t end up screwing up his brother more than he already is. Taking a deep breath, he focuses his mind, with intent, in this one thing. He lights a match and lets it fall over the ingredients, causing a small burst of flames. Planting a hand in Castiel’s forehead and the other in Garth’s, he speaks the words of the spell in its original language to make its effect stronger and faster.

Everyone’s expecting Garth to do something—scream out when the stabs transfer to him, start bleeding, twist in pain. _Something_. But instead of that Cas starts screaming at the top of his lungs and the blood comes gushing out of his wounds even worse than before. His eyes open impossibly wide, looking straight at Dean but somehow past him as well, like Castiel cannot even be aware of anything but the ache that tears his body apart.

“Stop! Stop, stop, stop!” he cries and begs.

His body shakes violently as he feels the stabs digging deeper into him, like they’re happening all over again while nothing at all seems to happen to Garth. Uncontrollable tears stream down the side of his face, blood trails down the corners of his lips. Dean stares, agape, frozen, confused. There is nothing he can do but stare. 

Then suddenly Castiel stops moving altogether, passing out from the shock, his eyes roll back into his skull. He goes pale so fast it’s scary. Blood stains Charlie’s and Benny’s jeans as the pool underneath Cas becomes wider.

“What the fuck did you do!?” Dean exclaims viciously at Gabriel who has gone pale himself.

“It’s not—it’s not working...”

“ _You think?_ You’re _killing_ him!”

“Why isn’t it working?”

“Because he’d be cheating!” Charlie is surprised to have an answer, to be even able to think clearly at all at this point, but it’s the only thing she can come up with. “He’s sharing the burden with someone else but he’s not supposed to. _He_ is the sacrifice, only him.”

Recklessly Dean lets go of Castiel and jumps Gabriel, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him down into the floor.

“Stop the spell! If he dies, I’m going to fucking kill you!” He partially lifts Gabriel off the ground by his shirt and slams him back down. “Break the fucking spell, Gabriel!”

Finally done with Dean, Gabriel pushes him aside with his magic and orders the Novaks’ familiars to take him out. Seir, torn between listening to Dean or Gabriel, unsure of who is right, hesitates for a moment but eventually turns into this ghost-like form like Loki. Together, they each surround one of Dean’s arms with their dark matter and drag him out the house. Dean kicks and screams and threatens them. He calls Seir a fool and a traitor and he fights like this is a matter of life and death because it is but the familiars are no match for him. Once they throw him into the porch, Seir turns into his animal form and rushes back inside to be by his master’s side. The door closes behind the familiars before Dean has a chance to go back in. He tries to, he fights with the handle and he tries to kick the door down. Hell, he even tries to break a window to get in, but the house won’t let him. As his rage subdues and the fear becomes his primary emotion again, it grips his heart so tightly he thinks the poor thing is just going to give out any time now. If Gabriel doesn’t kill him, stress might. 

Defeated, he sits on the porch, alone in the darkness, grabbing his head with shaky, bloody hands. He pulls at his hair and scratches his scalp nervously. Cas battles for his life inside and there’s nothing he can do, nothing. And if he dies, Dean won’t even be there to hold his hand. It’s wrong, it’s fucked up, all of it. 

Except there is one thing he can do… he could open the door, that goddamn door, and just put an end to this. Yes, he’d be throwing down the garbage his mother’s sacrifice, and yes, he’d also have to dedicate his whole life to guarding the door, but what is life going to be like if he allows Castiel to die like this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fire: autumn-imagine


	35. Chapter 35

Around an hour later, Gabriel finally allows him back in. He doesn’t speak to him, doesn’t even look in his direction. Hell, he doesn’t even open the door for him, the thing just does it on its own but Dean knows it’s under Gabriel’s command. 

The living room is a sight to behold. The sofa is still in an odd position against a wall, there are towels drenched in blood piled up in a corner, ingredients and spell books scattered all around Cas and absolutely everyone has their hands completed covered in blood and all but destroyed expressions in their faces. Cas is covered in bandages and the unmistakably stench of the healing unguent reaches Dean even from where he’s standing. Dean’s soulmate is paper white and unconscious. His head rests is a thin pillow and a new blood bag hangs above him, hovering in mid air. The other one has been carelessly discarded into a corner of the room, close to the towels. Some of the blood that pooled around him has been cleaned but the carpet is utterly ruined. Seir rests against his master’s cheek with his eyes closed. The ghost of his grandmother weeps without tears in a corner of the room. Gabriel is sitting with his back against an armchair, one elbow resting in his knee while his hand holds his head. He looks done, drained, weak.

Dean’s breath catches in his throat. His stomach drops, his hands go cold and numb.

Castiel is so pale.

Castiel is so still.

He looks—

“Is he—”

“He’s going to be okay,” Charlie responds almost mechanically. It’s like a mantra at this point.

Dean exhales a shaky breath and takes a few steps towards his boyfriend. He lays down on the floor and reaches for his hand. He can’t help the tears in his eyes but he fights them nonetheless. Seir lifts his head and opens his eyes. He looks at Dean and tentatively marches towards him, settling in the small space between Dean’s chest and his chin. Without words Dean knows Seir is sorry for kicking him out but he did what he thought was best to keep his master alive. And maybe they were right to kick him out, he’s not sure yet. He will know when Cas recovers.  _ If  _ he recovers.

“Cas…?”

A thumb tenderly draws circles in the witch’s hand. He’s cold. There’s no response, not even the smallest of signs that Cas can hear him.

“Why did you stop the healing spells?” he asks no one in particular, although he really wants to ask Gabriel.

“Gabriel’s drained,” Benny explains. He’s sitting next to Charlie with an arm around her. Whether it’s to comfort her or himself, Dean’s not sure. “He can’t anymore.”

“Why doesn’t he—”

“Tap into Castiel’s powers?” Gabe finishes for him, dragging his words like he doesn’t even have energy left to brother speaking properly. Their eyes are hard when they meet but they keep it civil enough. For Cas’ sake. “I can’t _just_ _borrow_ his powers. He’s got to let me. And he’s unconscious, so… yeah, no can do. Good news is, he’s stopped bleeding. For the most part, at least… Which means his magic _is_ keeping him alive. Just like the dumb idiot said it would.”

“Don’t you hate it when he’s right?” Dean mutters. His eyes study Cas’ face, his chapped and parted lips, the pointy nose. The long cut in his face that shouldn’t be there, the blood that is oh so read against his ghost-like skin.

The best response Gabriel can come up with is a disgruntled groan that comes from deep inside of his throat. He lets his head fall back on the couch and practically dozes off on the spot.

There’s a moment of silence, a minute of… well, not peace because they’re anything  _ but _ peaceful, but at least Castiel’s life is not in  _ immediate  _ danger anymore. That they know of, at least. They can breathe for now, watching Cas do the same. His chest barely moves though but it’s enough to keep him going, enough to buy him time and let his magic heal him. Dean only prays the next attack won’t come soon, that Cas will have some time to get stronger first.

Then Charlie suddenly chuckles a bit hysterically, eyes unfocused and lost in some corner of the room. “It’s a school night,” she says stupidly. Benny and Garth share a worried look, thinking maybe she’s lost it, but then she adds, “we have school tomorrow. We have to go home.”

She lifts her hands and shudders as she inhales sharply. She seems almost surprised by how red her hands are.

“We have to, hmm, to clean up.”

“Sure, Charlie,” Benny tells her, tone soft, like the caretaker he is. He gets to his feet and helps her up. He practically has to hold her up, her legs are weak, like jelly. “Come on, darling, I’ll take you to the bathroom, we’ll clean you up there.”

Dean doesn’t bother to even so much as glance in their direction. Fuck John, fuck school, he’s not fucking leaving. John can come and try to drag him out of the house himself, but he’s not fucking leaving.

Garth moves slowly, cautiously, and sits on the floor behind Dean with his legs crossed. He plants a hand on his friend's shoulder and squeezes.

“He’s going to be—”

“Don’t, Garth. Just… don’t.”

Garth nods and doesn’t take offence to the rejection. His hand stays on Dean’s shoulder though.

“I’m sorry I made it worse… it was a dumb idea.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. You were trying to save him.”

After a moment of hesitation, his friend replies, “we all are, Dean. Give Gabriel a break.”

After some brief discussion, they come up with a plan. They call Garth’s parents to drive Benny and Charlie home while Garth decides to stay back with Dean to watch over the Novaks. They may be powerful, they may have an entire haunted house and two familiars to protect them but it just feels wrong to leave them alone in this time of dire need. Garth also doesn’t want to leave Dean on his own, if he’s being honest, he’s worried about him too. Garth’s parents are very understanding and agree to everything, they tell their son he doesn't have to worry about attending classes the next day, he can spare a day of school.

Dean spends a few minutes thinking what he’s going to say to his dad, because if he doesn’t call he fears John will come marching down to take him home and how on Earth is Dean going to explain the mess in the living room in a way that doesn’t completely blow his mind? So he calls and he allows himself to be vulnerable because if he gets all argumentative and confrontational, John’s not going to react well but if Dean tells him at last some part of the truth, he thinks maybe he could tap into John’s good side, his kind side, the one that knows what it’s like to be young and in love. It works and that’s about the only easy win Dean’s had in weeks. He tells John Cas got in an accident, he allows his voice to be shaky and worried and conveys all the emotions that have accumulated inside of him. He begs him to let him stay, puts Garth on the phone to vouch for him and all, and in the end John, thank goodness, agrees.

Garth and Dean wash the blood off their hands, Dean also has to wash his face. It takes him a while to scrub them clean. He does it slowly, almost distractedly, his thoughts numb as he watches the sink become red with Castiel’s blood. Cleaning the space under his nails is quite hard, the blood has dried and it’s hard to remove it. He wants it all gone, he doesn’t want to see it anymore, the evidence of Castiel’s curse in his hands. 

Then they change into some of Castiel’s clothes because theirs are covered in blood. Dean puts on the shirt Castiel normally uses to sleep in. He holds it to his nose for a moment and breathes in, long and slow. It smells like him. It smells like home. He grabs two pillows, a comforter and heads downstairs. Garth takes the sofa, Dean makes a bed for himself next to Cas. He gets something to cover him and then, because he can’t help to take pity on Gabriel, he helps him up to his room. Loki throws him suspicious glances at all times, like he is about to bite him at any given moment if Dean tries something on his master.

Finally, Dean settles for the night next to Cas. He isn’t sure he’ll be able to sleep or not. He leaves one of the lamps in the corner of the room on, in case he needs to act quickly at some point. Who knows, maybe something else might happen that night.

“If I fall asleep and he needs me, can you please wake me up?” he asks Castiel’s grandmother who also refuses to leave his side.

She nods. “I’ll watch over you. Try to sleep, love.”

Dean grabs Castiel's hand once more.

“Cas…?” he whispers. He knows there’s no point… but he still tries. He has to try and so does Cas.

It takes him about 2 hours to fall asleep. The turmoil inside of him won’t shut up but at the same time eventually emotional exhaustion numbs his mind and lulls him into a restless sleep. He can’t quite remember what he dreams about but he knows it’s something nerve wracking. When he wakes up early in the morning, Cas is still unconscious, pale and doing his best impression of a corpse except for his chest, which eventually rises and falls, so slowly that someone not paying attention might miss it. The blood bag is empty. He wonders if he should change it, get a new one, but he has no idea how that works; what happens if he gives him more blood and he doesn't need it? Can he kill him or something? These are ideas he'd never even considered or thought about in his entire life, until the situation required him to. Judging by how pale Cas is, maybe he still needs it but he decides not to risk it if he has no idea what the fuck he’s doing. 

Garth’s parents drop by early with food. Dean can barely get a few bites down, his stomach is in knots, but they won’t take no for an answer. Gabriel, on the other hand, is enormously glad for it and he feeds on the sugar like a child who’s tasting it for the first time before he goes back to healing Cas some more.

Food is not all the Fitzgerald’s bring, they also have news. The previous night, right at the same time when Cas received the stabbings, a girl was attacked at her uncle’s house, where she was pet sitting while her family was away. She escaped unharmed, with nothing but a few very superficial cuts here and there. She called it a miracle; every time the attacker swung the knife at her, somehow they missed. It was God, she says. Dean wants to find her, grab her shoulders, shake her and scream at her that no, it wasn’t God, it was a fucking witch saving her sorry ass. 

“Did she see who did it?” Gabriel asks and both him and Dean and Garth hold their breaths in anticipation.

However, Garth’s dad pulls his mouth into a thin line and shakes his head. “No, she said it was very dark, the power was cut off on purpose. But she knows it was a woman.”

Dean’s ears perk up. Goddamn, that’s the biggest clue they have had in forever.

“She’s sure it’s a woman? How?”

Garth’s mom nods enthusiastically. “She said it was a tall but not that tall woman, slender judging by her silhouette. At some point, when she kept missing, she yelled  _ why won’t you die _ .”

“Shit,” Dean mumbles. At that moment he’s proud of Cas, although he would never tell him because he doesn’t want him to continue down this path; his spell annoyed the killer into speaking and revealing something about them. That's big, that's helpful.

“How do you know all this?” Garth asks curiously as he stuffs his face with cinnamon rolls.

“The news travelled fast. That and an officer dropped by early for breakfast and your mom sweet talked him into giving us some more details.”

“Look at you, Mrs Fitzgerald, doing a hunter’s work.”

“These  _ are _ crazy times,” she smiles. “Werewolves acting like hunters, witches hunting witches, Men of Letters letting both of them into their bunker… Crazy times, for sure”

Dean has to come back home in the afternoon, John calls him and he won’t take no for an answer. Castiel has not regained consciousness yet but Gabriel promises that he can feel him getting better. Garth stays back another day and vows to look after Castiel with his own life. Dean doesn’t doubt him, he just fears it won’t be enough.

Charlie catches him up with school work which just seems utterly ridiculous to him, he does not give a single fuck about his education at the time, not when Cas is still laying in a pool of his own blood in the living room of his house… but John is watching him and  _ he _ cares and Dean has to pretend that everything’s cool, except for that accident Cas had, so he goes along with it. Charlie allows him to just copy the whole thing, he could not process the information even if he tried. Sam, bless him, offers to explain it to him but Dean doesn’t want to have anything to do with it at the time.

The next day at least he is glad to wake up with no red flags being raised by anybody but it still sucks to have to go to school while all he can think about is Cas. John is even more paranoid than before what with this other girl being attacked but as long as Dean’s friends also go with him and they move as a pack, he allows Dean to visit Cas. By then, his boyfriend, who now lays in his bedroom bed, has finally regained consciousness. 

“You look like crap though,” Benny points out, an affectionate and teasing smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

“Thanks,” Cas deadpans. 

Dean holds his hand to his mouth and kisses his knuckles. “Don’t do that again.”

Cas narrows his eyes at him like he cannot believe Dean just said that, but the corner of his lips twist up and he squeezes his boyfriend’s hand affectionately. 

“You can rest assured I’ll try not to get stabbed again, Dean.”

Truth is, he’s never felt worse in his entire life. Magic flows through his body, trying to stitch the pieces back together. He can feel it, it’s uncomfortable. Every time he breathes, a white and hot sting makes itself known in his injuries, particularly the one in the stomach. That one's really nasty. He’s so tired too, he struggles to stay awake during his friends' visit. Every bit of him, the mortal and the immortal, is burning energy in trying to heal. But he smiles and he forces himself to be awake and listen because they need this, because if he doesn’t Gabriel might break the spell and then all his suffering will have been for nothing. Surely Satan never meant for him to use his magic this way, but then again he isn’t the only one who pulls the strings of destiny; maybe this is what he was put on Earth to do, to save his town. It’s working, no one can deny it. He’s saved three people so far. If he’s honest with himself he is nervous of what will come next, in his current state he doesn’t know how much more he’ll be able to endure, what are the limits of his powers. He’s never tested his immortality before… and he prefers not to, he’s not  _ that _ cocky. It seems to him the killer is getting frustrated with their failed attempts of murder and that they're escalating, getting more violent in the way they choose to attack. It makes him truly uneasy to think what might be the next step for their enemy.

Hopefully though, the killer will have realized by now that something is making their murder attempts fail, that's it's not just bad luck or execution. He doesn’t know how closely this person is watching their victims but surely they will have noticed that their last two spells thoroughly failed which is why they made a physical attack next, exposing themselves. They failed miserably so they have to have noticed something is protecting the people in the town. Cas wonders how many more times they will try to attack someone before they come to the conclusion that no one in town is dying… and what will happen then. They could either learn about the spell Cas used and try to kill him indirectly… or they could stop. 

_ Wishful thinking _ , he tells himself. They’re not just going to stop but wouldn’t that be nice? They’ll find another way, no doubt. Most likely, they’ll start killing somewhere else.

While his friends talk, he starts dozing off. Dean’s fingers comb through his hair, pulling it back repeatedly. It's such a simple gesture but it conveys so much affection. It's comforting, it lulls him back to sleep. He knows that if something happens, Dean won’t be able to help but he’s still enormously thankful for his presence. 

“Dean…” he whispers, eyes half closed. He doesn’t even know what he wants to say, the name just sounds right on his lips.

“Shh… go back to sleep, Cas,” Dean whispers back to him before plating a short kiss on his lips. His lips are soft, his movement full of tenderness.

Cas doesn’t want to sleep, he wants to see Dean, knowing he’ll be gone when he wakes up. Whenever that’ll be. But the chatter in the bedroom dies down, the lights go off and Dean continues to smooth his hair backwards until Castiel is dreaming again.

For the longest time his dreams are empty and dark, the closest thing he comes to a peaceful sleep despite being uncomfortable and unable to change positions in his bed. That is at least until the witching hour comes around and a new nightmare plagues him. 

He stands in a desert. A strong wind blows. It’s hot and dry and deadly quiet. It's lonely too, lacking any form or signs of life at all. The brown, dry and cracked earth he stands on has no life in it, not even the tiniest of ants. The valley he is in is surrounded by hills, which also have no vegetation. The sun is rising… or it’s setting, he’s not quite sure. Either way, the sky is a mixed of red and dark grey clouds. A storm is coming.

He starts towards the hills; maybe there’ll be something more interesting there or perhaps there’s something past them, but then he hears his name being called, more in his head than in his ears. This little, slow whisper has the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He knows it’s coming from behind him, somehow. He doesn’t want to turn around for fear of what he’ll find but he'd rather know his enemy than ignore it. Novaks don’t shy away from fights.

When he turns he finds Death staring at him, even though he cannot see its eyes. All he sees is darkness and hollowness. The faceless figure just looks in his direction, holding its scythe in one hand. A small, weakened tree behind it is the only thing alive besides Cas in the entire valley.

Death extends a bony hand in his direction, the palm facing up. The skin is dry like the earth, grey and dead, and the young witch recoils from it.

_ Come. _

Castiel takes off in the opposite direction, running as fast as his feet will allow him, towards the hills. There’s nowhere to run though, no promise that there’ll be shelter waiting for him on the other side of the shallow mountains. He cannot feel death this time, not like before, so he looks over his shoulder to check if Death is following. To his dismay, it is. Death doesn’t run though, more like steadily advances towards him without having to move at all, as if the space between them was shrinking despite his efforts to get away.

“No!” he exclaims to the top of his lungs. “I’m  _ not _ dying yet! I can do this!”

He knows he is laying on his bed, in his bedroom, healing. He knows he has the strength to get through this. He can feel it in his bones, in the sparks of magic that stitch his flesh back together, slowly but surely. They can cut him and bleed him and curse him, torture him until he breaks, but he’ll bounce back, every goddamn time, he has to. He will return to his friends, to his brother, to Dean.

Dean.

He cannot let Death get him, he  _ has _ to come back to Dean. He promised he would so he has to. He  _ wants _ to. He has no idea what is going to happen when he dies and he’s okay with that but he’s not ready yet, he’s still got so many things to do on Earth. People to save, a mother to avenge, memories to make with Dean…

His feet move but he’s not advancing. Death is almost upon him. There’s only one way to really get away.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up!” he desperately urges himself as he shuts his eyes tightly.

He can almost feel his eyes struggling to open, his mind torn between reality and dreams. There’s a glimpse of the dark roof of his bedroom. He’s almost there, almost safely at home. His fingers dig into the injury he knows he has in his hip back in the real world, applying pressure on it, letting the pain erupt and cause his eyes to fly open. 

Cas wakes up with a start and cries out in pain. His hand is on his hip, meddling with the injury Gabriel had put great effort into healing. It starts bleeding again. Cas hisses and puts his hand away, panting while his eyes scan the room, almost expecting Death to have followed him there as well.

Alerted by the noise, Gabriel bursts through the door.

“What is it?”

“No—nothing,” he stammers, a little out of breath. “Just a nightmare.”

He rests his head back down and tries to calm down. He’s sweating. A sharp pain beats in his hip injury. Gabe notices it bleeding again.

“Did you scratch that? It was getting better.”

Without thinking, Cas says, “I had to,” instead of lying.

Gabriel pulls out the chair from the desk and sits beside him. He snaps his fingers and the lights erupt to life.

“What do you mean, you had to?”

Castiel shakes his head and swallows hard. “Nothing, never mind.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Cas. Spit it out or I’ll make you, and you know truth potions taste like shit.”

Just thinking about them, Castiel wrinkles his nose in disgust. He's tasted them before. Growing up Gabriel exposed him to a lot of potions so Cas would be able to recognize the effects and signs of them should he ever be slipped one without him knowing. Of course, he also taught Cas a lot of remedies but had his fun with Cas first while he was under the effects of the truth potion.

“Like I said, I just had a nightmare. I just wanted to wake up, okay?"

“What did you see? Did you see the apocalypse again?”

“No… no, I saw… Death.”

Gabe is silent for a moment. He sits back in his chair, keeping his expression rather unreadable. Cas knows him enough to know that’s a bad sign, that Gabriel is worried but doesn’t want to share his concerns.

“I don’t know what it wants… I think it wants to speak to me… or it wants...  _ me _ .”

“You didn’t ask?”

Castiel pulls a face like he’s being stupid. “Sue me but I didn’t stay to chat with  _ Death _ , Gabriel. I ran in the opposite direction as soon as I saw it. It trapped me this time in some… kind of desert. It couldn’t get me the last time, I hid at home—”

“You’ve had dreams about Death before?” Gabriel lets out a short breath of exasperation and throws his arms out. “Cas, when the hell were you going to tell me that?”

“I thought it was just a nightmare,” he lies. He shrugs and winces immediately, the wound on his shoulder reminding him it's better to stay still.

But Gabriel narrows his eyes at him, not believing a word his brother says. “Bullshit. When did you have your first nightmare?”

“I don’t know, Gabriel, it’s like…” He checks the time in his nightstand clock and groans, “3.15. I can’t even think right now.”

“You are so full of shit, Cas. You had your first nightmare before we cast this dumb spell, didn’t you? You fucking  _ idiot _ . Dean’s going to eat you alive.”

“Don’t tell him!” Castiel snaps. “Leave him out of this. He’ll want me to break the spell.”

“Maybe you should! Maybe you should take Death’s visit as a fucking sign.”

“Gabriel, this is working and you know it. I can take it. Now just—bring the healing unguent, my hip is bleeding again.”

Gabriel sighs and stomps his feet in anger but he does as requested. Maybe he’s not as careful as he should be when he cleans the injury and applies unguent again before putting a new bandage over it, but he shuts his mouth for once. He does, however, shake his head in disagreement the entire time. 

“What was it like?” He suddenly asks. “The desert, what is it like?”

Castiel tilts his head to the side, brows knitted together in confusion. “Like… a desert?”

“Come on, smartass, be a little bit more articulate than that. Don’t they teach you nothing at school? What did you see?”

“Nothing, it was  _ just _ a desert, Gabriel. Some sort of valley, shaped like a circle, with small hills surrounding it. There was literally  _ nothing _ but this one tree in the middle.”

“You saw Eden,” Gabriel states rather confidently.

Cas pulls his mouth into a thin line and lifts an eyebrow. “That looked nothing like a garden to me.”

“It’s in ruins, dumbass. I  _ really _ have to teach you more history, don’t I? After the snake managed to get in and trick Adam and Eve into their doom, it all fell apart. Eden is neither part of Hell, Heaven or Earth. There’s nothing else there now, it was abandoned by God when the pair fucked up and then abandoned by Satan when he successfully burned it all to the ground. Except for the tree of life, which cannot be killed. So, some say, it belongs to Death now. It’s peaceful, there’s nothing there.”

“What a dull place to live in.”

“Well, it’s  _ Death, _ Cas, she’s not exactly the life of the party. She likes peace and quiet and to keep the natural order of things and stuff like that. She’s a real stickler.”

“She?”

“Yeah, Death is a she. Or so they say. I wonder why she took you there… Maybe cause your soul doesn’t really belong to one place.”

A dreadful idea occurs to Castiel then. “You don’t think that’s where she’ll send me when I die, do you?”

He'd always just assume he'd either end up in Hell or Heaven and he was fine with either option. This, however, sounds like a dreadful place to spend the rest of eternity.

Gabriel wishes he could lie but truth is no one knows. “I don’t know, Cas. Maybe next time stick around and ask her.”

“I rather not…”

“And I rather you don’t poke at your injuries again, okay? Now rest… I think we’re safe for now, hopefully the killer has already realized they can’t kill anyone in town and you’ll be safe... For now.”

They go a few days with no incidents, no murder attempts. Cas heals exponentially; the more he recovers, the stronger he gets and his magic can treat his injuries faster. In just a few days he makes considerable improvements. Dean is extremely relieved but at the same time he knows Castiel will hold on to this as proof that he can continue down this path of sacrificing himself for others and he hates that. Just because he can doesn’t mean he should.

The first injury to fully disappear is the cut on his face; it doesn't so much as leave a scar. The one in his thigh and shoulder disappear next, although he does feel some sort of discomfort in his shoulder, like he's got a tense muscle there or something that won't quite relax, but it's fine, he can deal with that, it's better to use his energy in wounds that really need it. The injury in his hip is healing nicely too. He tries not to make sudden or quick movement though, and sitting up and down causes him some degree of pain. It's manageable though. The injuries to his stomach and chest are the tricky ones. They diminish quite considerably in depth but they remain open and painful. Gabriel thinks those are bound to leave scars, despite his best efforts to help his brother along in the healing process. Cas focuses most of his effort in healing the one to his stomach as it is the most annoying. It hurts like Hell every time needs to use his abs for anything, even sneezing. He's constantly taking potions to control the pain, which make him groggy and slow but it's worth it

Dean touches him like he’s made of glass and when they make love he's overly careful. Hell, it’s hard to get things going with him in the first place, with how worried Dean is about his condition. It's not like Cas doesn't take it serious himself; after all, he's the one in constant discomfort, but there's just something about having Dean close that makes him feel better. It's like love powers up his soul, which feeds his magic, charging it up. It makes him stronger and he wonders if that's why having a half human soul makes him more powerful, because his love is more pure and a mighty source of energy. Dean makes sure Cas lays back and lets Dean handle all of it. Castiel can’t quite complain about that, every Dean does is enjoyable but he fears Dean has been traumatized by the night of the stabbings. Frankly, he could not blame him for it. 

A feeling of victory creeps into the back of their minds, shyly and quietly, like they don’t want to think about it in fear that karma will whoop their asses for it, but it does. And as if to prove them right, by the end of the week they hear news of a brutal murder in the next town. No one close to them this time, but a life is a life, one that they did not save. Castiel can just imagine what they felt, the knife cutting through the skin, breaking it apart. He knows the pain and the fear and he doesn’t wish it on anyone.

Of course, the first thing Castiel suggests is to cast the same protection spell but for the people in the next town. Almost everyone opposes the idea right away, except for Charlie and Benny, who have strong ties with people who live there. They don’t like the idea one bit, obviously, but Castiel has proven that he can survive the attacks that others cannot so they hesitate, they consider it… Sam also agrees for which Dean stops talking to him for two whole days. For once, Gabriel tries to dissuade his brother, afraid that it’ll be too much for Cas to handle, even more now that he knows Death is after his brother, but he fears what will happen to his family in Hell if things keep spinning out of control and they get closer and closer to the right amount of sacrifices needed before his dad becomes the next target, the door of Hell open or not. Maybe whichever of his siblings is behind the murders will go ahead with the spell anyway, hoping that as soon as the doors are open one day, Hell will come bursting out at once. They’re immortal, what are but a few more decades to them? Nothing at all.

"Cas, you're not even fully recovered yet!"

"I'm strong enough, I can do this."

“We can’t keep going like this, we can’t protect all towns!” Dean argues. He’s desperate to dissuade Cas but he’s failing.

“We’ll protect the ones we can, Dean,” Cas tells him in a more calm but equally as stubborn tone. He's made up his mind, he just needs witnesses to cast the spell.

Dean sweeps everything on the table with a quick movement of his arm, angrily sending books, paper and pens flying across the room in a fit of rage. He storms off, once more refusing to be a part of what he thinks is Castiel’s suicide but the others, including Sam this time, stand as witnesses as Cas once more uses the spell to protect his neighbouring town. The spell is even more painful the second time and Cas is unconscious for twice as long afterwards. He bounces back from it at the end, although he has a head splitting headache that forces him to remain in a silent and dark room for at least 3 hours before he can deal with anything else.

And so they wait, again, for the next attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First gif: terror-native-live  
> Second: knife dont-leave-the-window-open  
> Third gif: mementoanima


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold on to your butts.

He has to admit he’s nervous. A week after the last murder, the killer is able to make their next move and Cas just sits at home and waits for some unfortunate thing to happen. He went to school for a few days, hoping nothing odd would happen while he was there. It was a risky move but he’s falling dangerously behind with school work and the principal called Gabriel to inquire why he was missing school so much. Gabriel can lie and even cast a minor curse on her to make her forget about his brother, but they know people will notice and ask questions and witches never like that. In times like this, specifically, they don't want people to notice anything out of the ordinary going on with them. A part of Castiel misses his normal life, just attending classes and even doing homework, having lunch with his friends, seeing Dean…

Dean is in his own world. Castiel has trouble reading his mood. Dean says he’s not angry but he doesn’t have lunch with his friends and he acts weird, spends all his time in the library then in the bunker, going through papers with Sam while they discuss things with each other in hushed voices. Cas lets him have his space even though there’s nothing more he wants but to spend time with him. He just hopes eventually he’ll come around and that he won’t try anything stupid just to save him.

On Friday he has to stay home again in case the killer tries something during the day time. Gabriel hangs around the house with him, his grandmother keeps an eye on them both. They’ve stocked up in blood again, although Cas has no idea where Gabriel is getting it from and he rather not know. Seir is nervous, fidgety. If it were up to him he’d let the world burn just to save Cas but he understands his master’s motives and would die to defend them as well. He’s learned by now that, for example, protecting his master means protecting his soulmates as well.

The wait is lonely. The day is dull but at the same time there’s this tense atmosphere about the house. Whenever Gabriel walks past him he gives him this look like he’s expecting Cas to bend over and spit his guts out on the floor at any given point, it makes Castiel uneasy. He hides in the secret library, going over books Rowena has kindly sent them in case they are of any help. They’re not, really; her books cover very dark magic that’s meant to cause more harm than good, nothing that can aid them at this time but he has to check nonetheless, just in case. There is this one spell he comes across that can help him find something hidden, including a person, but one of the requirements is to sacrifice his familiar for it. He cannot even consider it. His life he is willing to sacrifice but not Seir’s. _Never_ Seir’s. Maybe that’s selfish, because Seir would gladly give his life to spare Castiel any more anguish, but he cannot bear the thought of losing his oldest and most loyal friend in the world, even if it means letting others die instead. He hides the book under his bed because he’s just that afraid of facing this possibility and doesn’t mention it at all when Gabriel asks if he found something useful.

It’s around noon when Charlie, Garth, Sam and Dean barge through the front door, unannounced, urgently calling the Novaks. If the bizarre behaviour wasn't enough to go by, the tone of their voices make it obvious that this is some kind of emergency. Both Gabriel and Castiel hurry to meet them, knowing that there must be something really wrong if they ran out of school like that. 

When Gabriel sees that no one is bleeding out or in any immediate danger, he seems pissed. “What in Satan’s name—!”

“We figured it out!” Charlie exclaims. There’s a wild look in her eyes, a mix of excitement and terror. “It’s Gilda! She’s the next target!” 

“How the fuck—”

“She broke her leg two days ago and she’s going to be home alone for a few hours! Her mom's working half day, couldn't take the full day off again. She was leaving at noon." Upon checking her watch, she says, "she must be on her way out already.”

When it’s obvious Castiel and Gabriel have no idea what she’s talking about, Sam begins to explain what he had been up to with Dean lately. “It’s the hospital! Dean and I have been working on this and figured it out, a link between most victims. Some were attacks of opportunity, which complicated the hunt, but there _is_ a link between other victims. The hospital, the killer works at the hospital. Which is also within the area that Seir led you to.”

“But how—”

Sam opens a thick leader journal with an impressive collection of notes and newspaper articles, some of which look quite old. There are notes inside there too, of his grandfather and Bobby Singer regarding their research on the case. He grabs one sheet where they have summarized their findings.

“Cara Mayers,” he starts reading, “visited the hospital three days before dying, had an allergic reaction to a bee sting. Richie and Ryan Woods visited the hospital fairly regularly, to take care of wounds sustained during fires or visit patients they rescued. Shelby worked in the hospital, Jamie volunteered there. Aurora and Annie were pregnant, they’d been to the hospital recently for check-ups. Ed Hale had cancer, most people didn’t know but he’d been recently diagnosed. Whoever was supposed to die of a heart attack out of fear, if they had a heart condition they probably went to the hospital to get treated so it has to be someone with access to the records. Lola, the girl who almost got stabbed, was house sitting at her uncle’s; he’s a doctor at the hospital. Someone close to him must have known Lola was going to be alone in the house. The rest must have been just chance or opportunity.”

Gabriel smacks himself in the forehead so hard it has to hurt. He’s frustrated that after years of trying to find a link, two teenage hunters beat him to it. “Fuck, it’s the goddamn _hospital_!”

“There was this one nurse that our grandfather looked into, Josie Sands. She didn’t get along with Dr Barnes and she was dating Cara’s brother at the time. Cara didn’t like her. He wrote he had a hunch about her but—”

“My dad checked her out and fucking told Samuel she wasn’t a witch,” Gabriel says, pulling from his hair as he remembers that day like it was yesterday. “He sensed no traces of magic coming from her.”

Charlie bites her nails nervously. “She has to know Gilda is our friend! She probably even knows we’re dating! And she's a sweetheart, she's a good target."

“If we catch her in the act, we can finally catch the bitch,” Dean says, tone low and dangerous. From it it’s obvious that he’s planning to do worse than just catch her. In his eyes, she’s not human anymore, she’s a goddamn monster and the key to saving Cas.

Castiel takes Charlie’s hand and there’s a sort of promise in his next words. “She’s going to be okay, Charlie, nothing can harm her.”

He’s going to take care of her, he’s not going to let anything happen to Gilda. That’s what the spell is all about.

Garth pats his shoulder and says, “it’s _you_ we’re worried about.”

“Alright, enough talk!” Dean claps his hands and nods towards the door. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

They all start towards the door, all but Gabriel, who grabs his brother by the arm and pulls him back.

“Wait! Cas can’t go.”

“What? Are you crazy? I’m the strongest!” his brother argues with one foot out the door already.

“Yes and you’re also cursed. You either break the spell or you stay behind. What do you think is going to happen when she attacks Gilda and you receive it? At least Dean and I will get distracted and that could get us or others killed. I can’t have you bleeding out in public either, Cas, and it’s too risky for you as well. You need to be here, where we have the means to help you _not_ die.”

Castiel sets his jaw. His eyes find Charlie who cannot help but hesitate, torn between the two options; leaving Gilda vulnerable to murder or catching the killer who has caused so much suffering. With Cas in the team it would be so much easier to catch her for Gabriel has made it known that, as cocky as he is, he knows he is not the strongest amongst his brothers. If this woman is summoning the powers of one of his siblings, he’ll need help. Castiel, on the other hand, could crush her on his own. 

There’s no time to think but both options have their risks.

Seeing that Castiel is hesitating, Gabriel makes the decision for him. “‘Kay, I need someone to stay behind in case Castiel needs help or healing. I don't suppose any of you know Latin...?"

Sam raises his hand without a second thought. "I do."

"You do?" Dean mumbles distractedly.

"Great, you’re on healing duty then," Gabriel beams. He extends his hand and a book appears, the same that he used last time to help cure his brother from his stab wounds. "After you apply the healing unguent—”

“The one that smells like crap?” Dean asks but Gabe utterly ignores him.

“—start with the spell, it’ll tap into your energy to help heal Cas. It’ll be very tiring, especially for a mortal. If the Latin is too complicated, you can switch to English but saying it in Latin will have a stronger effect.”

Sam nods and grabs the book. He quickly begins to read the Latin words, familiarizing himself with them.

“I’m staying too,” Dean declares before he even knows what he’s doing. It’s an instinct, to stay behind and protect Cas. His own decision surprises him; he would have thought he’d be more blood thirsty, that nailing the killer would be at the top of his priorities, but there’s something wrong about imagining his boyfriend enduring the attacks almost all by himself, only with Sam (well, and Seir too) to help him. It’s too much pressure on Sammy as well. He has to have faith that Garth, Charlie, Gabriel and Loki can take care of it on their own.

“Alright, everyone else ready to roll?”

Charlie nods although something about her expression shows that there’s nothing more she’d like to do to be at school and have a normal life again. Having a witch friend is cool but fighting evil forces is just exhausting, mentally and physically.

“Where’s Benny?”

“At school, we couldn’t find him in time,” Garth responds.

“Okay, no time to get him, let’s go.”

“Here, Charlie, take my gun,” Dean says as he grabs the gun he’d tucked inside his pants. Making sure it has the safety on, he passes it on to a timid Charlie. “It has witch killing bullets, make it count.”

Sam, Dean and Cas watch the others leave through the window. The three of them want to join in but accept their choices to stay behind. Sam goes back to reading the book while Dean grabs Castiel’s hand and they share a look. Dean is focused and collected, ready to snap into action if necessary, but underneath those green eyes there’s that stress that has been building up for weeks. They have finally figured out the killer’s next move, they are finally one step ahead and can take an offensive approach instead of defensive, which will ultimately protect Cas. 

“I’m going to be okay,” Cas reassures him with a strained smile.

“Shouldn’t I be comforting you?” Dean jokes as they get closer.

Cas buries his face in Dean’s neck and kisses him there. He then makes a face like Dean knows, out of the two, he is the one who worries the most and pulls from his boyfriend’s hand to lead him to the sofa.

For a moment they think they will finally turn things around. Today is the day they catch the killer in the act, if they don’t arrive soon enough to lay a trap for her before she even attempts to attack Gilda. Today everything finishes, they get revenge and justice and everything will be fine. Except they’re too late. They got so close but they’re too late. No sooner than the boys sit down, Castiel jerks back in his seat as his hands jump up to his neck, instinctively trying to pull from the invisible cord that is choking him. He cannot grab it and he knows this but his hands still surround his neck as if he could protect himself. His mouth opens like he’s trying to scream but no words come out, only a disturbing gurgling sound. He trashes in desperation, sliding down the sofa into the floor while Dean grabs him by the shoulders and stills him.

“Cas!” Dean exclaims. He hesitates and tries to think clearly under stress, but what the hell is he supposed to do? He cannot help Cas breathe, this is not a wound he can attempt to heal. All he can do is watch his boyfriend’s eyes watering and his mouth open in a silent cry, the tension in the muscles of his neck.

“Hold on, Cas, the rest are on their way!” Sam says. “Just fight back!”

Castiel thinks he can make it, however uncomfortable and painful the situation is, he knows it takes several minutes to choke a person and Gabriel can drive like a maniac when he wants to. His magic should also help him stay alive for longer than any other normal mortal could so all he needs to do is be patient and endure this but just as he starts getting his hopes up the first of three quick stabs pierces his abdomen and blood comes gushing out. One is so near his previous injury to the stomach, which until then had been healing so well, that it hurts twice as much as any other. Dean and Sam gasp and stare in shock, mouth hanging open. In the back of his mind, Dean realizes it’s the first time Sam sees something like this. He wishes he never had to.

Finally snapping into action, Sam yells, “Dean, bring me the healing unguent!” 

Even though everything in him wants to remain by Castiel’s side, Dean jumps to his feet and runs to the kitchen where he knows the witches keep a full pantry of potions and other magical ingredients and concoctions. He only has a second to wonder where the hell the right unguent is when a cabinet opens itself on cue. He recognizes the right glass jar right away when his eyes spot the cream-like, slightly greenish healing unguent. He smells it quickly, for good measure, and knows it’s what he wants when he cringes and groans with how badly it smells.

When he returns to the living room he can’t help but pause to take in the view. Cas is fully laying on the floor, blood already pooling underneath him while Sam applies pressure on his stomach with both hands. Somehow he found a towel and is using it to try and stop the bleeding. Cas still has his hands around his neck, staring at the ceiling with his eyes wide open. His mouth keeps moving but no noise at all comes out. He’s turning pale too, awfully past, at the same time as his face goes red with lack of oxygen.

Dean sprints forwards and falls on his knees next to his brother. He opens the jar, scoops out a ton of unguent and starts spreading it over the injuries once Sam pulls his hands away. Blood spurts from the lacerations. Red, red is all they can see, running down the sides of Castiel’s body onto the floor. They can't even assess how bad, how deep the injuries are, they can't see properly, but just judging by the amount of blood it looks really bad.

While Dean presses the wet towel over the wounded area again, Sam starts saying the healing spell so quickly it’s like he’s not even stopping to breathe in between words. Dean doesn’t know what good it’ll do if Cas chokes to death, but it’s the only thing they can help with. However the blood soaks his hands, seeping through his fingers despite Sam’s attempts to stop the bleeding. Cas claws at his throat, leaving long scratch marks. His eyes start to close intermittently, he fights to keep them open, but he’s running out of air and the blood loss makes him dizzy. It’s too much to handle at once. He attempts to call Dean’s name but he can’t, he can’t ask for help. His hands feel heavy, oh so heavy.

“No, no, no, come on, Cas, fight it!” Dean growls as Castiel's eyes begin to close. “Come on, open your eyes!”

Castiel’s eyelids flutter, his gaze becomes unfocused. The frantic clawing to his neck starts to subdue and soon his hands are barely moving at all. The brothers share a panicked look, then Sam starts chanting the spell even faster, giving it his all, allowing it to take as much energy as it wants to gift it to Cas.

Suddenly the pressure around Castiel’s neck seems to vanish. Although bordering unconsciousness, Cas takes a weak breath in through his mouth. 

“Breathe, darling, breathe!” his grandmother urges him while she kneels by his head. Her hands reach out to touch his face but aren't able to comfort him, to feel him.

To their relief (or partly), Castiel’s chest slowly but surely begins to move. It rises ever so slightly while air returns to his lungs. His stomach, however, continues bleeding at an alarming rate.

“You’ll be alright, your brother must be there, he’s going to take care of everything,” Dean tells Cas, hoping he can hear him. Cas’ head moves ever so slightly and a hopeful smile pulls at the corner of Dean’s lips. “Yeah, Cas, come on, open your eyes, sweetheart, stay with us. It’ll be over soon.”

But instead of opening his eyes, Castiel starts coughing. Every time he draws in a breath, an ugly cough follows. His body shakes with its force and Dean realizes he’s somehow choking again.

“Cas—”

“Dean! Dean, he’s burning! Bring wet towels, quickly!”

Fully trusting his brother even though he's got no idea what he's talking about, Dean does as told, sprinting to the bathroom and opening the faucet of the bathtub at full capacity. He grabs every single towel in the cabinets and throws them in, frantically moving his hands around to help the water soak them faster. He then grabs the whole lot of them, which are heavy with water dripping down the front of his clothes, and runs back to the living room, leaving a trail of water behind him and almost slipping on the wet floor once or twice.

When he returns he notices Castiel’s skin quickly becoming red and irritated. He's got blisters all over. Dean starts covering him with wet towels, everywhere but around the zone where Sam has his hands applying pressure on the stab wounds. He even puts one around his head, carefully leaving the face uncovered while Cas continues to cough.

“What the hell is going on,” Dean mutters under his breath. His heart races in desperation, his mind has a hard time focusing through his panic.

His best guess is there’s some kind of fire happening around Gilda or some poor other unlucky bastard. Someone is burning alive and choking on carbon dioxide. Either the fire or the lack of air will kill him, the question is which one will do the trick first. Or maybe the loss of blood, which doesn’t seem to be relenting, will get him. Dean can’t take this anymore. He can’t bear to watch Castiel go through this, suffering in so many different ways.

And then Sam’s nose starts to bleed. He feels something running down his lips and he absentmindedly wipes his nose on his shoulder, leaving a blood stain there. He sees the blood from the corner of his eye, so does Dean, but Sam only stammers once before he continues repeating the spell over and over again. Only then Dean takes a second to study his brother instead of focusing all his attention on Cas. Sam is also pale, sweat running down his temple. He looks tired and sickly, and he's having a hard time breathing, taking long breaths like he's finding it hard to fill his lungs. The spell is taking a toll on him, it’s not meant for humans.

“Sam. Sammy, stop it, this is hurting you.”

Stubbornly Sam continues with the spell. He doesn't acknowledge Dean's words, doesn't so much as glance his way.

“Sam!” Dean grabs his shoulder and shakes his brother. Sam shrugs and pushes his arm away.

“If I stop he dies!” he finally snaps, annoyed by the distraction.

The other nostril starts bleeding too. His eyes are bloodshot.

Cas stops coughing, becoming increasingly quiet and still. 

Castiel’s grandmother covers her mouth, weeping silently, and Seir caws urgently though the boys cannot understand him.

Dean takes it in, he takes it all in. All the suffering, all the pain. The blood straining the carpet and his hands. The way Castiel’s skin is burning up, splitting here and there as the invisible fires consume him. He watches his soulmate drawing in his last breaths, paling, dying. His brother, hurting himself to try and keep Cas alive for a few more minutes, trying to buy the others more time for whatever they’re doing, whatever the fuck is going on in the other town. He sees his happy ending slipping through his fingers and he finally breaks, he’s had enough. They don’t know how much Castiel will resist, what the limits of his immortality and his powers are, but Dean knows his and this is more than he can tolerate.

“Sam, stop, we need help,” Dean says in a cool and level headed tone that catches Sam's attention.

“Who the hell are we going to ask for help, Dean?” Sam snaps again. The blood in his hands is warm. He doesn’t have time to speak, he needs to keep going.

“His father. He can save him.”

Sam finally lifts his gaze, understanding the implication of what Dean is saying. His jaw is set but his expression is unreadable. There is definitely a hint of shock in his eyes.

“Are you sure?”

Dean doesn’t know what he had been expecting. Maybe he had hoped that Sam would argue with him, that he would find another option (a better one) and talk Dean out of opening the door to Hell but instead he shows no dislike or approval towards the idea, he doesn't speak his mind. He’s out of ideas too and he also seems to be fearing that Castiel is running out of time. Whether Sam thinks it's a good idea or not is unimportant. If Dean wants to open the door, if he thinks it's the right thing to do, Sam trusts him to make the right choice and he will stand by his brother until the very end. After all it is Dean who will have to guard the door, it's his choice to make, it's his life. He doesn't take lightly to a possibility of an apocalypse busting through the door later on but he trusts his brother's judgement nonetheless and he's got faith in them. Not enough sacrifices have been made yet, they still have time to turn things around.

“I am sure,” Dean responds, taking full responsibility for what could happen and for what he would have to give up if they have to close the door again; his own life.

“Dean.” Sam looks down. Blisters burn Castiel’s skin, breaking it apart. “I don’t think he’ll make it that far.”

“We need to break the spell,” Dean decides, although he has no idea how to do that.

On cue Seir flies off in the direction of the entrance. Seconds later they hear a commotion upstairs, then Seir appears back in the living room with the old book Garth found in the library. Dean figures Gabriel must have hidden it somewhere in the house after Dean threatened him into breaking the spell, but thankfully Seir, cunning and clever as he is, had watched Gabriel hide it and knew where to find it. Like Dean, Seir too had hoped that at some point the spell would be broken and that his master would be freed from his suffering.

“Thanks.” 

It takes Dean no time to locate the spell. He stops to think of his friends, out there in the field fighting the killer, of Benny alone at school, and fear grips his soul. What if something happens to them? What if Gabriel hasn’t caught her yet and someone dies because Dean broke the spell?

But what if _Castiel_ dies and he becomes the next sacrifice? Cas, in the sunset of his life, is in the most immediate danger, and Dean has a way to save him right there, in his hands.

Swallowing hard, praying that those angels his mom told him were watching over him are actually listening for once, he says the words needed to break the spell.

“All life is precious, this like no other. Spare this life… and… and take another.”

Nothing happens, nothing changes, but until nothing gets worse they won’t have a sign either that it _didn’t_ work. Dean leans over him, trying to listen to his breathing, but it’s barely indistinguishable. He touches his neck for a pulse and waits. A second, then two, three, four… and nothing, he can't feel a damn thing.

The blood drains from his face and he becomes truly dizzy. He blinks and opens his mouth but no words come out. Dean looks over at his brother with tears in his eyes, frozen in denial.

"He's not dead," Seir, in his true form, tells him with urgency to bring Dean back to reality, "I can still feel him."

Dean lets out a shaky breath of relief, tears running down his cheeks when he blinks. He forces himself to get it together, Cas needs him. At least he’s still alive, for now. If his magic doesn’t have to fight the spell anymore, hopefully now it would be able to concentrate on healing and keeping him alive.

They move fast, wrapping a bandage around Castiel’s middle in a haste and carrying him out the door. They lay him on the back seat carefully, talking to him, trying to get him to give them a sign that he’s still fighting but Cas is totally unresponsive and completely still. He’s so pale he looks already dead. Blood seeps through the bandage. Trying to subdue the panic that rises in Dean’s chest, he just hopes they’re not too late.

Dean drives to town in a haste, running through every single stop sign he finds and ignoring all red lights when possible. As long as there is no police man in sight, Dean just fucking drives like a madman, like nothing else really matters because it _doesn’t_. It’s a miracle they don’t get into an accident. Sam periodically checks Castiel’s pulse and keeps an eye out for any signs that his magic is working to get him better, but just as Dead was unable to sense a heartbeat, Sam fails as well. He doesn’t say anything though, to avoid distressing his brother any further. He just sets his jaw, shuts his mouth and prays that they’ll get to Hell on time—which is a crazy thought to have. If Seir says Castiel is alive, then they'll have to take his word for it because to the human eye he looks already dead.

Knowing they can’t just barge through the front door of the library in broad daylight with a guy bleeding to death hanging from their shoulders, he rounds the building and approaches the backdoor they use when they want to leave the bunker late at night, when the library is already closed. Seir opens every door for them and pushes things aside, out of their way, until they reach the door of the bunker.

To open the door of the bunker, Dean frantically cleans the one finger, because his entire hands are covered with Castiel's blood, and sticks his hand into the system that draws a drop of blood from his finger. Once inside, they head straight into the room where the door to Hell remains closed. The boys carefully lay Cas down, then Dean hurries to retrieve the key from where he’d hidden it. When he’s back by his brother’s side, they both take a moment to look down at the key. Dean twists it between his fingers.

“I’m sorry, mom,” he whispers. It tears him apart to do this, but Cas is almost dead and there’s just no more time to waste.

He inserts the key and shares one final look questioning with his brother, who nods as if telling Dean that it’s alright, that he allows this to happen as well, Dean’s not alone. Then twists the key. Apart from the deep sound of some heavy lock opening, nothing happens. They’re not sure what they had been expecting, but they had not expected _nothing_ to happen. There’s no dramatic forces blasting the door open, no heat coming from the other side, no damned souls screaming. 

Dean grabs the handle and pulls the door open, just a little bit, taking a quick peek inside in case there’s some demonic creature on the other side waiting to rip their throats out, but when he finds there’s just a dark tunnel illuminated by torches, he lets out a relieved breath and finishes opening them widely.

“So this door goes directly into Castiel’ dad’s castle… right?”

Sam nods. He knows what Dean’s thinking; they’re about to walk into Hell, stupidly unarmed, not knowing what to expect at all, with the only person who could protect them out cold. This is reckless beyond measure but they’re going through with it no matter what. It would have been smarter to grab something along the way, but with Cas in the state that he is there’s just no time to pick and choose. With so many enemies on the other side, so many different creatures that they could encounter, it would also be hard to find one weapon that could have really helped them survive. They need to find their allies, no doubt, and they are counting on Charles to take them under their wing.

Seir, taking the lead in his spirit form, reassures the boys, “do not fear, you’ll be safe under his roof. I will guide you and protect you.”

Dean shares a loot with him. He’s no longer afraid of Seir’s true form, the red piercing eyes don’t frighten him anymore. They have… sort of _bonded_ over their shared love for the half witch. He trusts Seir to be true to his word, just like Dean he would do anything to protect Cas and that means protecting the Winchesters too at this point. 

Their minds made up, the brothers pick up Cas again, each throwing one of the witch’s arms over their shoulders, and with Seir leading the way, they venture into the tunnel. In their haste, minds too busy with an overwhelming list of things they’re worried about and Castiel’s life hangs from a thread, both of them forget to grab the key and take it with them. Out of sight, out of mind; Dean forgets it there where he left it, positioned in the keyhole, hiding behind the now opened door.

The tunnel is short. At the end of it they come into a small room with three identical doors. Seir hesitates for a moment, having trouble remembering which one is the right one; he hasn’t visited this place since Castiel was born and even before that, he’d only been in the castle a few times. Unwilling to wait for Seir to make a decision, Dean hastily tries the first one but when he opens it, he finds absolutely nothing but hollow darkness inside, a complete empty void. He cannot perceive the depth, length or height of the room, it’s just too damn bloody dark. There are no torches inside, no light at all, but curiously enough the light in the room they are currently in doesn’t seem to reach the other one, as if the darkness was actively keeping it out or devouring it before it could shed some light inside. Something in Dean tells him not to stick his hand in there and feel for a light switch.

“What the—”

Suddenly half a dozen pairs of hands with long, dark nails appear from somewhere inside that darkness, clawing at the edges of the doorway like something born out of a horror movie. Dean yelps and jumps back but before anything can get out Seir shuts the door closed. High pitched shrieks that have the brothers’ blood running cold can be heard coming from the other side but nothing attempts to open the door again.

“Okay, not that one,” Dean deadpans as he tries to just ignore that horror; there’s no time to panic about that.

He tries the next door, the one in the middle. They come face to face with a massive black dog. Or what looks like a dog, but from Hell. Dean knows it is not a dog but has no other word to describe it. The thing had been sleeping up until that moment. Now, its eyes fly open and it lifts its head. It takes one glance at the intruders and begins to growl, bearing its huge teeth at them as it uncurls from its sleeping position and rises to its feet. Red eyes, as tall as Sam and with claws that could rip their flesh apart in one deadly swing. Yes, that is no ordinary dog. Dean wants to shut the door closed in its face but he isn’t sure he can move fast enough, before the creature rips his arms off with one single bite.

“Bring your master to his son,” Seir’s deep voice commands the creature, all authoritarianism and mighty fearlessness. The dog, amazingly, seems to stop and consider his words. It glances over at Castiel with what can only be described as a frown, sniffs in his direction tentatively, then decides they’re not a threat and follows Seir’s order at once. The boys watch the creature retreat and hurry down a corridor in amazement.

“Way to go, Seir,” Dean cheers, thankful to have Castiel’s familiar watching their backs. “What the hell was that?”

“It’s Charles’ familiar. She never met the boy, doesn’t recognise his scent but his magic has trails of his father’s. You— you stink of hunters. She would have ripped you apart if I weren’t with you.”

Dean pulls a face, almost offended, and huffs as he lifts an eyebrow. “What's that supposed to mean, we ‘ _stink_ ’?”

“ _Dean_ ,” Sam scolds at him, kicking his ankle, “not the time.”

Starting in the direction of the dog, Seir says, “follow me.”

The Winchesters, panting, drag Castiel’s dead weight through long corridors and a maze of rooms and stairs. Mostly silent, cold and slightly creepy is the castle they’re navigating, but it is truly stunning and impressive as well. The details in the architecture, the decoration, the ancient artefacts and collections, it’s incredible. There’s so much to look at, like the paintings that come alive and stare at them in bewilderment, muttering things about _mortals_ invading the castle or something, he doesn’t have time to stop and listen, but it’s weird and fascinating. It strikes Dean as odd to think that something from Hell could be that aesthetically pleasing, like something he would see in a castle in Europe.

They run into a few people, or rather creatures, and just as the paintings, they stare at them agape, too shocked to even question their presence. They’re clearly not a threat, two young boys carrying an almost dead one in their arms, and they aren’t carrying weapons either, so they are allowed through without any major inconveniences. It also helps that Seir shouts at everyone he spots telling them to get out of the way, and there’s such urgency in his tone, he so easily conveys that he is ready to destroy and rip apart anyone who gets in his way, anyone who so much as looks at the mortals wrong, that those who can’t find any reason to stop them simply allow them to carry on their way.

Through the windows, Dean takes a quick glance into the outside world, Hell. It reminds him of Mars, dusty and red, a huge full moon casting a lazy light on the land. The castle seems massive and surrounded by a village and woods. In the distance he can see something flying in the sky and he wonders what kind of creature that is because it’s too big to be just a bird (it’s got the proportions of a goddamn dragon, if that’s even possible), but he has no time, or the breath, to ask. Seir is opening another door and leading him into a grand hall. The ceiling is incredibly tall, with large windows letting all the light in. Stairs connect the room to countless places, hallways leading here and there. There are chairs and libraries and objects he doesn't know the name for and so many things he can’t keep his eyes focused on one thing at the same time. This all belongs to the Novaks’, to his boyfriend’s family. It’s hard to wrap his head around it and to think that someone like Cas, who could have all of this and even more, chooses to give it up for him. Now that they’re there, now that Castiel can see what he would _really_ be missing if he turns his back on his witchy origins, Dean fears that he might just change his mind. Or at least consider it. If he weren’t so afraid for Castiel’s life, he would be panicking about it.

“Do you actually know where you’re going?” Dean asks Seir, panting. 

His heart’s on his throat at this point, his mouth is dry. His legs are burning from all the stairs and carrying Castiel. Sam’s not looking good at all so Dean’s doing most of the heavy lifting at this point, but he doesn’t know how much more he can take. The place is massive, much bigger than he’d ever imagined.

The spirit turns his gaze on him and Dean swears it narrows his eyes at him.

At last they make a turn on yet another hallway to see two men running towards them, that giant dog-like creature trotting beside them. Dean recognises them right away, from pictures Castiel showed him, as his boyfriend's father and oldest brother, Michael. He stops dead on his tracks, eyes locked on Michael, almost causing Sammy to drop Cas in his side. 

“Dean!” his brother snaps at him, chest heaving. His nose is still bleeding. However, he softens when he sees his older brother hesitate. “What?”

All of a sudden Dean fears that venturing into Hell might have been a grave, reckless mistake. He hadn’t counted on Michael being there, just Charles, which in hindsight was foolish. What if Micheal is the one that’s trying to bring on the apocalypse? He would surely love to have Castiel at the reach of his hands, weakened, an easy target. With Cas out of the way and the door to Hell open, he could probably finally reach his goal.

This is going to be a problem, he realizes too late. He is in _Hell_ , quite literally, with no weapons or knowledge to protect himself from witches that are older than his house (and, God, that’s saying something), trapped under their own roof. Dean could not find the way back to the door on his own if he had a full day to try, the place is a maze. Michael could easily kidnap them and separate him from Cas and Sam. And that’s assuming, once again irresponsibly, that he is the only of Castiel’s brothers currently present in the castle. They could all be, he never bothered to ask, and he doesn’t know which one is good and which one is bad. He doesn’t know who he can trust.

As Castiel’s relatives are but feet away from them, Dean can do nothing but put on a brave face and hope for the best. Seir is there, after all. He will protect Castiel until his dying breath and he will probably do a better job at it than Dean ever could. Dean can only hope that Seir will be enough of an ally to also protect Sam, should Dean need help in that department. And there’s also Charles; Dean tries to find comfort in the things that he’s heard about the guy, about how powerful he is. Surely none of his sons would dare try and harm Castiel under their father’s nose. As long as Charles is around, he should be safe… 

Or so Dean desperately wants to believe. If not, he has delivered Castiel to a certain death.

“Castiel!” his father exclaims, staring directly at the bandages around his son’s stomach, the red dripping down the front of his clothes. Castiel’s head hangs from his shoulders and he gives no indication whatsoever that he can hear his father’s call.

The Novaks reach out to grab him, pulling him away from the Winchesters. Dean has the urge to reach forwards and pull Castiel back into the safety of his loving arms, but his shoulders and back are aching and Sam’s must surely be as well. They did, after all, come here for help.

“Follow us,” Michael tells him, sparing only a second to look in the direction of the hunters, giving them a quick once over, before father and son turn their backs on them and take Castiel away with them.

Dean takes a step forward, with the intention of following them, but Charles’ familiar snarls at them aggressively. Dean puts his hands up in surrender as Seir places himself between the boy and the spirit, to protect him, making himself tall and letting out this menacing growl. 

“Shuck!” Charles scolds his familiar over his shoulder. “They’re friends, let them through!”

Dean and Sam keep their eyes on the dog as they walk past it, as if they were still unsure whether it was safe or not. They’re thankful for the barrier Seir provides between them and the other spirit. Then they hurry to catch up with the Novaks— Dean especially, as he wants to keep his eyes on Michael at all times in case he tries something.

The brothers follow the Novaks to an oval room that has nothing in it but a shallow pool. Above if there’s the statue of an angel chained to the wall by his wrist, with his hands over his head. He’s trying to pull from the chains, as if to release himself. His mouth is open in a scream of rage and from it a stream of water flows into the pool below. It’s hands down the most fucked up fountain Dean’s ever seen. 

The Novaks step into the water and carefully lay the injured witch down until he’s fully submerged in the water, except for his face which his father cradles with his lap. Michael removes his brother’s shirt and bandages, exposing the injuries. Dean wants to avert his eyes but he forces himself to keep watching, both to protect Castiel and to bear witness to his sacrifice. The slashes are horrible, cutting deep into the stomach which is still bleeding angrily. Dean feels his stomach twisting and threatening to spill out its contents when he _sees_ the inside of his boyfriend’s flesh. The water around him becomes red and thick though, making it impossible to see the wounds for long. Castiel doesn’t move at all, his hands lay still on his sides. His skin has an angry pink and red range of colours and is pretty screwed up, he’s got blisters all over his body. It looks like it had been starting to melt or something.

As Charles starts whispering something with his lips almost pressed to his son’s forehead, Dean feels Sam pats his back. Seir goes back to his animal form and comes to rest on the edge of the pool, eyeing Cas like a sad puppy.

“He’s going to be okay,” Sam says but his promise is flat with doubts.

“You don’t know that,” Dean mutters through gritted teeth. He still can’t believe he let this happen, that he allowed Castiel to even go through with this spell at all.

“He will be,” Michael reassures them confidently. He throws them a rather wary glance, like he’s quickly studying them, their intentions and their desires, their possible next steps, but he keeps his tone decidedly civil and objective, not revealing much with it. “This water is powered by Hell’s damned souls. Castiel will draw energy from them and heal faster.”

Sam blinks and opens his mouth, then closes it again when he wonders if his question could be offensive. He can’t help himself though, so he asks, “so his healing is being powered by… torture?”

Michael seems to find the question amusing and chuckles. There’s a shadow of darkness in his eyes that’s not quite meant to be threatening, it simply reveals his dark nature. “Of course. That’s Satan’s way. Every healing has to have a counterpart sacrifice.”

“That’s why I got drained healing him, it was drawing the energy from me,” Sam says, mostly to himself. All the exhaustion catching up with him now that they have help, he sits by the edge of the pool. His legs feel heavy like a bag of rocks. He moves his hand towards the water, thinking he will finally wash the blood off his face, but when he realizes he hears faint whispers coming from it, he draws his hand back. Again, a grin pulls at Michael’s lips but he says nothing about the mortal’s repulsion.

“So what’s with the, huh—” Dean points towards the statue, which he can’t help but find distasteful.

Charles looks over at the statue as if he didn’t know it already. He is aware of Dean’s dislike and makes no effort to appease him. His explanation is honest, even if the hunter won’t like it. “It represents the angels’ failure to save all souls. Some cannot be saved, some belong here, with us, to serve us.”

A snappy response is at the tip of Dean’s tongue but a severe look from his brother keeps him in line. It is not the time or place to argue with the witches, especially not over a stupid statue.

Even though he tries to fight it, a yawn escapes Sam’s lips.

“You should take some rest,” Michael tells the brothers. “I can show you to a—”

“No, thank you, we’ll wait here,” Dean interrupts him, trying but failing to keep his voice neutral. There’s something definitely authoritative about him and without saying it he conveys that he will not leave Castiel’s side. He hopes that is clear so if this is the one evil brother (or more evil than the rest, as Dean knows they like to indulge in mischief, to say the least), he will think twice before making a move on Cas. Dean is quite new at this hunter thing but it’s in his blood and something tells him that that means sometimes to the witches too, even if they’re older and wiser than him. He crosses his arms over his chest, standing by the edge of the pool, his eyes locked on Castiel.

Michael doesn’t seem to appreciate being interrupted. His face hardens a little and he inhales slowly, making himself bigger. In retrospect, Dean kind of gets him; here is this kid, a few hundred years younger than him, barging into this home demanding help and then giving the host an attitude about it. Dean would be pissed too, but it’s just the way things are.

Charles, who had also noticed his son’s reaction, suddenly splashes water in his eldest’s face. He gives Micheal a small smile and a pointed look, like a parent that tries to convince the oldest kid not to be mad at the youngest.

“It’ll take a while,” Charles warns Dean, not in a way that tries to convince him to leave but just to let him know it won’t be a short wait.

“I can wait,” Dean firmly states.

“Dean,” Sam starts, “maybe we should go back? Something happened, maybe the rest needs our help. And considering now the protection spell is gone...”

“Is that what he did?” Charles interrupts them. His eyes skim over his son’s skin, all the damage it has endured. “Was this caused by a protection spell?”

Dean, also watching Cas, swallows hard and nods. “Yeah, he put a spell to protect everyone in town. Cas received every attack meant for someone else.”

“I see… Well, whatever is happening in the human world can wait. Time here and time there are different. Time is much, _much_ slower there. A day here is but an hour there. You can stay and rest, regain your strength and wait for Cas to heal, then head back.”

Dean knows right away Sam’s not going to want to do that. Even though it would make no difference in the mortal world, Sam can’t just sit around and relax while he knows their friends, or even just random people in town, are in danger. He’s going to want to go back and fight, just like Dean should, but Dean’s priorities are fucked up. He feels like a selfish piece of shit for it but his priority is that boy bleeding out in that pool in front of him. He has to stay and ensure Cas heals properly and protect him until he’s strong enough to fend for himself. 

“Dean—”

Dean shakes his head. “Sam, I’m staying.”

He can’t, he just can’t leave Castiel behind. Just even considering it for a few seconds pulls him apart.

Sam exhales sharply, clearly disagreeing but knowing there’s no changing Dean’s mind, not when it comes to Cas. “Okay, but I’m going back.”

“And do what, exactly? You can’t drive, Sammy, how are you going to get to the next town? You’re supposed to be at school, if someone catches you you’ll just get in trouble. You won’t be able to help. And if you get in trouble and dad finds out, he’s gonna suspect something’s going on and he’s gonna go looking for me when he shouldn’t. What if he goes to the Novaks’ and sees the state the house is in? He’s going to freak out.”

“I could find a spell, maybe—”

“There’s no time for that! And it’s not safe for you back there, all on your own!”

“You’ll find plenty of spells here,” Charles offers. Something tells Dean he agrees that it’s not safe for them to go back but he doesn’t want to say it up-front in case the hunters take offence to it. “I can teach you a few things while Cas recovers.”

Sam shifts in his place, looking back and forward between Dean and Charles. He doesn’t want to argue in front of the Novaks and he really wants to go back and make himself useful. His friends could be in trouble, the entire town could be in danger… but Dean is giving him that pleading look that he reserves for only a few special situations, the one that says without words that Dean needs Sam to trust him and support him and just go along with anything he’s saying. Dean needs his brother by his side…

“Fine,” he sighs eventually, absentmindedly putting his hand on the water. He yanks it back though when he feels an unexpected electric buzz tickling his hand.

Relieved that he’s not going to have to fight Sammy into staying, Dean takes a seat next to him.

The water around Castiel continues to be strongly tainted in a red shade, more blood seems to be gushing out of his boyfriend. Charles doesn’t even attempt to apply pressure on the wound. He has the impulse to step into the water and do it himself, but he remains seated and tells himself to have some faith in Charles. If anyone can save Cas and wants what is best for him, it’s his own father.


	37. Chapter 37

Dean wakes up with a start, alarmed by the feeling of having fallen asleep when and where he shouldn’t have. When he comes to, he finds himself sitting on a couch in a different room, some sort of study room with loads of places to sit in, a piano, books everywhere and tall windows. It’s gloomy but also sort of cozy, it gives him the feeling that he’s in some sort of mystery movie. It’s Hell, after all everything seems mysterious to him there.

“Cas!” he exclaims in panic.

A voice behind him shushes him, not aggressively but in a calming way.

“They’re sleeping,” Charles’ low and serene voice comes from behind him. He’s sitting at a desk by the window, with a book in his hands. He gives Dean a welcoming smile. He looks serene, despite absolutely everything that’s happened, which he must be aware of. Dean finds it odd and even though he is his boyfriend’s father, he lacks confidence in the stranger.

Somewhat rudely, he doesn’t ask but more like demands to know, “where are they?” 

Charles, who finds his behaviour amusing rather than insulting, merely points a finger in the direction of the corner of the room with all the grace and patience of a man who has dealt with his own children for hundreds of years. When Dean follows his gaze he finds a smaller sized room in a corner, separated from the study only by a thick curtain. There, laying under the covers in bed, is an unconscious Cas. In a long divan close to the bed is Sammy, comfortably sleeping with his hands under his head as a pillow.

Dean can’t help but blush a little, ashamed of himself.

“Oh... How’s Cas?”

“He’ll be just fine, my boy is unique,” he boasts with a proud glimmer in his eyes and a smirk plastered on his face. He’s got full confidence in his son and his powers. Then, more serious, he says, “he lost a lot of blood though. I gave him some of mine but it’ll take a while for his body to process purely immortal blood. The wounds in the stomach are healing well, they closed enough that they’re not a threat to his life anymore but he will probably be sore for a few more days.”

“And the door to Earth—”

Dean wants to punch himself in the face as hard as possible; he fell  _ asleep _ while the door to the other world is  _ open _ ??? He left not just his friends, his family and his own town unprotected, but the entire goddamn  _ world _ ? His ancestors must be turning over in their graves, disappointed with his recklessness and poor choices. He must be, hands down, the worst hunter in the history of the Men of Letters.

But Charles waves a hand at him dismissing his sudden panic. “Don’t worry about it, nothing comes in or out of this castle without me knowing. It’s part of the contract, remember?”

“And where’s Michael?”

His eyes skim the room for the other witch and miss the way Charles’ eyes narrow suspiciously at his question. However, he doesn’t beat around the bush, doesn’t hide his thoughts.

“I’m not sure… why are you asking?”

When Dean finds the old witch staring directly at him, he has the uncomfortable feeling the man could read his mind if Dean’s thoughts were low enough. He makes sure to keep a straight face and try to act as normal as possible but something about those piercing eyes make him nervous. He’s barely shared a few words with the guy but he realizes right away Charles is smart and perceptive, it won’t be easy to fool him. 

Shrugging, he mutters, “just curious…”

Charles clicks his tongue and tilts his head to the side, much like Cas does, and grins. “Oh, you’ll have to lie better than that, Dean. You don’t trust Michael.”

“It’s not that—”

“I wasn’t asking, I was just merely stating the obvious…”

Becoming increasingly uncomfortable and frankly afraid that he’ll crack and say something he’s not supposed to, Dean averts his eyes and walks over to the bed. He sits on its edge, studying Castiel’s skin. It’s in a much better state, almost back to normal except that it is dry and there are irritated patches here and there. Cas, still pale and visibly weak, rests in a deep sleep with Seir laying on his chest. The spirit shares a quick look with Dean, acknowledging his presence, then closes his eyes again. He acts as if he were sleeping as well but Dean has the feeling he’s pretending and he’s just as alert and ready to fight if needed as Dean is. He knows the truth, that someone in the family is a traitor, and he must also fear Michael could be the one, thus a danger to his master.

Dean climbs into bed next to Cas, staying close to the edge because he wants the half witch to be as comfortable as possible. He’s also afraid to roll over him in his sleep and touch Cas where it’ll hurt him. The half witch’s lips are parted and chapped. He seems to be having trouble breathing but at least he  _ is _ breathing, his chest rising and falling at a steady rhythm. Small wins are better than losing all together. Charles said Castiel would be fine so Dean has faith that he will and soon.

As he lays his head down on the pillow, a yawn escapes Dean’s lips. Now that Castiel’s impending death is no longer weighing on him, he becomes aware of how tired he is. He has no idea how long he’s already slept but all his body wants to do is continue sleeping. His stomach growls with hunger but he doesn’t have the strength to care. His eyelids feel heavy, all he wants to do is close them and sleep. Rest, take some well deserved rest. In the back of his mind he thinks of his friends though; perhaps now that Castiel is safe, it is time to go back. However, he is almost already dozing off as he tells himself he has time, Charles said they had time…

“Rest, Dean. No harm will come to you under my roof,” Charles, standing by the curtains, promises him.

His sudden exhaustion makes Dean suspicious though, as if the witch were drugging him.

“I’ve already slept,” he responds but it’s like he’s talking to himself, trying to convince himself to stay awake. Dean pinches the bridge of his nose and shuts his eyes, then blinks a few times when he opens them and finds them glassy and unfocused.

“It’s your soul. Just as our souls aren’t meant for Earth, where we age and die much faster, yours isn’t meant to be here. It’s quite tiresome for a mortal to be here. Hell feeds off of souls, after all.”

Dean doesn’t like that, it makes him vulnerable. He has to stay awake and make sure no harm comes to his brother and soulmate. Bur, dear lord, how foggy his mind is becoming! How hard it is to fight the desire to just sleep.

“I don’t know what it is that you fear,” Charles, who clearly knows why Dean’s being so stubborn, says, “but I won’t leave this room until you wake up and no harm will come to you or the boys. You have my word, Dean. That meant something to your mother once, trust her instincts if you don’t trust me.”

His words resonate with Dean. A long time ago, Charles and Mary were allies. They were even friends, despite Mary opposing him marrying her best friend. That was mostly to keep Clarice out of the supernatural life, not because there was anything particularly wrong with him. She never spoke a bad word in his name. She trusted him, her family reached out to him for help. Clarice, her best friend,  _ loved _ him. And there he is, a bit too cocky and lively given the situation they’re in considering Dean delivered a gravely injured Castiel to his doorstep, but helpful and attentive nonetheless. There’s no denying Castiel has made significant improvements to his recovery in a short period of time and that Charles played a hand on that. He put the Winchesters in the same room as him and his son when they dozed off and he kept watch while they slept. If he were planning on doing something nasty he could have already. In hindsight he’s got no reason  _ not _ to trust him other than him being a witch he doesn’t know, which he’s sure is a comment the Novaks would not appreciate after decades for peace between them… except for that one asshole trying to break the peace treaty.

So Dean relents and gives him, nodding as a sign of peace and resting his head on the pillow. He eyes Cas once more time, hating not to see him awake and smiling and full of life, before he goes to sleep again. He’ll need his strength later.

When Castiel wakes up, it’s like coming back to life after a dark and endless sleep. He is disoriented and confused. His body aches all over, his skin itches. He’s got a terrible headache. It’s like a truck ran him over and it takes him a while to even remember why he feels this way but then pieces come back to him. The spell, the choking, then the stabbings, bleeding out...  _ again _ . Right.

_ Guess I made it, _ he thinks. Even the voice in his head sounds exhausted.

He attempts to call out someone’s name—Dean’s or Gabriel’s, he’s not sure, a grunt is all that comes out. His mouth is so dry, he swallows hard only to feel his throat is just as unpleasantly dehydrated, like he hasn’t had something to drink in  _ days _ . He tries to move but a piercing stab of pain coming from his middle renders him frozen in place, moaning like a wounded animal.

A familiar caw to his right announces Seir’s presence. Cas opens one eye and smiles reassuringly at the bird that looks at him with concern.

“I’m f—”

The words die in his mouth as he opens the other eye and his eyes wander around the room. With enormous effort he lifts himself up on his forearms, ignoring the pain in his stomach for a second.

“What the…”

He doesn’t recognize a thing, he’s never been in a place like this before. The tall ceilings and delicate architecture, the strange and old decoration. He cannot recall there being a place like this anywhere near their modest little town. More troubling is that he senses the presence of magic coming from all around him; from objects in the room, people somewhere in the building he’s in, the air itself…

“Oh, dear Satan,” he whispers as the panic kicks in. He turns towards Seir, face pale as he comes to understand where he is. “Did I die?”

The bird shakes its head and the half witch sighs with relief but then once again worries when he realizes what that means.

“Dean opened the door, didn’t he?”

Seir nods.  _ To save you _ , his familiar tells him. His voice is clearer than ever in Castiel’s voice, as if somehow they are even more connected than before.

A roller coaster of emotions has his heart accelerating. His eyes search the room once again, as if he would this time locate someone he had missed before, the boy now hopeful and excited but also scared. If he’s in Hell, it means his father is near… but it could also mean his brothers could be there, the traitor specifically.

Which automatically has him wondering—

“Where are Dean and Sam?” he asks his familiar. He pushes himself off the bed with resolution, with all the intention of looking for the Winchester brothers. If the traitor is near, they’re not safe, especially since Hell will weaken them.

In response, Seir takes off and gracefully lands in an armchair in the adjacent room behind the curtains. He stares in a direction that is blocked from Castiel’s view. With a lot of effort, Cas slowly gets up from bed to follow him. He gets dizzy when he stands and takes a second to gather himself. He’s starving he realizes, which combined with how dehydrated he is makes him wonder (and worry) how long he’s been out. Dragging his feet, he pulls the curtains aside and comes into the next room which he recognises immediately as his father’s study from this new perspective. Sitting in a chair in Charles’ desk, sleeping with his head resting on his crossed arms, is Dean. A weak smile pulls at the corner of Castiel’s lips when he sees him, safe and sound.

“Dean,” he whispers and starts towards him. Adoration for Dean gives him the strength he needs to take every step to get to him.

Seir flies over to the sleeping human, cawing in his ear which startles Dean awake. Castiel can’t help but chuckle a little.

“Jesus!” he snaps with annoyance but then his eyes land on Castiel and he jumps to his feet. “Cas!”

Dean runs to him and cups his face on his hands, giving him a quick once over; Cas still looks like shit, pale and with dark shadows under his eyes, but he’s alive and kicking and now conscious and that’s good enough for him, for now.

The witch has goose bumps in the back of his neck with the way Dean looks at him, like he’s the sun and Dean hopelessly gravitates around him, like he’s this important and cherished treasure he wants to protect at all costs. Dean conveys with his eyes all that he doesn’t usually say with words, the boy not known for being eloquent. When Cas meets his gaze all he sees is love in his eyes, just pure, raw affection. He knows in that moment that, vision or no vision of the future, that they’re each other’s destinies and Satan’s plans were ruined the moment they met. Dean pulls him into his arms and gives him a tight hug, which somewhat hurts for Cas but he can also lean his weight against his boyfriend which is good as his legs feel too heavy for him.

“You’re finally awake,” Dean sighs. He pulls away just enough to kiss Cas, clashing their lips together urgently. As Cs lets out this shaky, happy sigh, Dean licks into his mouth, seeking Castiel’s tongue like he needs to taste him or he’ll die. Cas, with his arms around his neck, brings him in closer. If he’s honest with himself, he isn’t just happy to see Dean but he also really needs something to lean on.

Dean, realizing that Cas’ legs are all but shaking and that his mouth is seriously dry, breaks the kiss and guides him to the chair.

“Come on, Cas, let’s put some food on ya.”

As he has done a dozen times before, Dean grabs the empty cup he’d been drinking from, bangs it ever so slightly on the table and Cas finds that the cup refills itself.

“Enjoying the magic, aren’t you?”

“I do when it gives me food and drinks, man,” Dean smiles down at him, running a hand down the back of Castiel’s hair. He can’t take his hands off his boyfriend, his future husband.

The witch has no idea how long the food resting on the plates has been laying out there but it looks good nonetheless and he’s so hungry he’s not about to turn it down. There are different types of breads, cheese, meat and smaller fruits he doesn’t know the name for. He goes to the carbs first, breaking a piece of bread and stuffing it into his mouth before realizing his tongue is too dry to eat and he can barely chew anything without it sticking all over the sides of his mouth. He spits it out, gaining a laugh from Dean, and then drains the entire cup in one long gulp. Afterwards, he starts eating so fast he hasn’t even swallowed what he had originally put in his mouth before he’s stuffing himself even further.

“Calm down, dude,” Dean chuckles. “It’s not running out any time soon.”

Cas tries to apologize but nothing intelligible comes out of his full mouth.

Dean yawns and stretches his arms over his back. He walks over to the window to see that bright red moon still up there. He’s lost track of time as well, he has no idea what time it is.

“Where’s Sam?”

“Nerding it out in the library with your father,” Dean explains. He leans against the window with his arms crossed over his chest. “Sam was getting restless and wanted to explore but I wouldn’t have him wandering off on his own and I—I didn’t want to leave you alone… so your dad offered to show him around.”

There it is again, the weird fact that his father is in the same place as him for the first time in forever. He’s spoken to Dean and Sam, he probably tried to speak to Cas as well. His dad was there with him, it seems almost unbelievable. It brings up strong emotions in him.

“Can we join them?” Castiel asks, suddenly forgetting about the food and eagerly getting to his feet.

But Dean plants a hand on his shoulder and pushes him back down on the chair.

“First of all, you need to rest. This place is  _ huge _ , Cas, but  _ seriously _ huge. The amount of stairs—it’ll kill you.”

Castiel rolls his eyes; yes, he’s in pain and tired but he’s getting stronger with every passing minute. He can feel the energy of this place feeding his own powers, he will recover faster than on Earth. “I’m not on my deathbed, Dean.”

“Not anymore, at least,” Dean points out, lifting an eyebrow. As usual he worries too much and Castiel too little. “But we can’t leave the room anyway. I had your dad lock it up before he left.”

Cas blinks, surprised by that. There’s no safer place on Earth—well, in Hell, than his father’s castle. “Why?”

“Your brother Michael is here. Since we don’t know which of your brothers is the psycho trying to unleash the apocalypse, I’m trying to play it safe. You know, in case they try to murder you in your sleep or something.”

“Michael is here too?”

A part of Castiel’s brain understands Dean’s concerns and even agrees with them… but another part, perhaps a childish one, just wants to get out there and meet the brother he’s only ever had brief conversations with through the mirror. Michael has always been rather kind to him even though he never showed a strong interest in getting to know him, never made the effort to regularly stay in touch, but Castiel doesn’t blame him for it. They live in different dimensions after all, with no promise of ever getting to know each other until then. His brother has his own life and time in Hell passes differently, it is even longer than time on Earth. However, Castiel is very curious about his brothers. He’s heard countless stories from Gabriel, who won’t say it but adores them.

“Yeah.” Dean studies him, quickly realizing what he must be thinking. His face softens and he walks over to Cas again, placing a hand on his shoulder and shifting rather uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “Listen, you must be excited to meet him but be careful, we don’t know who is an ally and who wants us dead here.”

“I know,” Castiel mutters defensively but he is very much aware that he’s getting caught up in the excitement, the hope of having his family reunited. Which again, sparks another important thought in his mind. “And my mom? Has my dad gone to get my mom? How long have I been out?”

Dean shakes his head, squeezing the hand on his shoulder. “No, he wouldn’t leave your side for the most part. I think he wanted to wait for you to get better, in case he was needed here. You were out cold for almost two days, buddy.”

In hindsight Castiel knows two days are nothing. If anything, he is rather shocked of how much his health has improved in that time considering last time he took longer to heal from similar wounds, but this is the moment he’d been waiting for his entire life. The door is open and there’s not a second to waste. There are so many things to do, a killer they still need to catch and punish, and he has no idea what’s happened in the human world since he was attacked, but whatever happens at least he’ll get his mother back. 

“But that’s ridiculous, what a waste of time!” Cas jumps to his feet, resolving to settle this matter once and for all right away. However, still weak, his head spins from getting up too quickly and his legs quiver, threatening to give in.

Dean grabs him by the arms to steady him. Castiel moves his arms away though, stubbornly attempting to stand upright on his own. The pain in his stomach keeps him somewhat bending over himself but he rolls his shoulders, sets his jaw and does his best to convincingly act healthy and strong even though no one’s buying it.

“I’m better now, we have to go save her!” he argues.

He starts towards the doors but his feet are dragging. His body hasn’t processed the food yet and his head spins. Dean follows him closely, eyeing him like he expects Cas to pass out any moment now. His hands are ready to reach out to catch him in case he does. Cas gets it, he would probably be doing the same should their roles be inverted, but at the same time it’s getting on his nerves.

“Stop it, Dean, you—”

“No, Cas,  _ you _ stop it!” Dean hotly cuts through, easily walking around him and standing before him to stop him. Cas recognizes it, that anger in Dean that is actually born out of emotion when he struggles to convey his feelings or when’s bottled them up for too long. “Man, I get it, trust me, I  _ do _ , if I could have my mom back there’s nothing I wouldn't do but I can’t cause she died closing that door and I opened it for you. You have to know that wasn’t easy for me but I thought you were  _ dying _ , Cas. For Christ’ sake, you didn’t have a  _ pulse _ ! I chose you over her. So excuse me if I’m worried about you but I’m trying to keep you alive, man. I would just like to know that completely shitting on my mom’s sacrifice actually meant something! So,  _ please _ , sit the fuck down and wait for your dad to come back!”

Dean takes a deep breath and lets it out all at once, decidedly letting go of his frustration in that moment because he doesn’t want to fight, he just wants Cas to take his own health more seriously. He waits for Castiel’s response, expecting him to insist, to get mad for Dean’s choice of language or the fact that he was yelling. 

Seir looks back and forth between them, torn between warning Dean not to raise his voice at his master and actually agreeing with his judgement of the situation; Cas still needs to rest. 

Eventually, Cas relents and nods silently, allowing Dean to guide him towards the nearest sofa. He groans when he sits down, his body aching every time he needs to move his abdomen for anything at all. Dean walks over to the desk where he’d been sleeping and brings food and drinks over to Cas, placing them in the smaller table next to the sofa. Dean sits next to him, keeping a few inches between them during their tense silence, but Castiel takes his hand and pulls him closer.

“I’m not mad,” he says, then leans in to kiss Dean’s cheek as if to declare peace between them. “I’m just… imagine all the possibilities, Dean. I’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life.”

“I know,” Dean mutters distractedly as he reaches for a bowl of food. Fear tightens his chest again as it has so many times since he walked through that damn door. With the passage to Hell open, there’s nothing stopping Castiel from walking away and finally having the life he’s wanted for a long time. It had surely seemed like he had made his peace living a normal mortal life before, but now the door is open Dean’s not stupid, he knows Castiel’s decision will change and what is worse is Dean completely understands that, it makes sense for Castiel to be where his family is and where his powers are stronger. In Hell, he’s considered a force to be reckoned with, the guy at the top of the food chain, Satan’s right hand man (at least until they had their fallout). On Earth, he’s this weird kid a lot of people don’t like or trust and give shit to. It’s a no-brainer where he’d be better off, where he would be more accepted and celebrated.

Castiel picks up on the tone of his voice and quirks an eyebrow. “What?”

“What what?” Dean asks, looking up from the bowl.

“Your tone… is something the matter?”

Dean pulls a comical face, like Cas is exaggerating, and merely says, “nah. I’m happy for you, man.”

_ He’s lying,  _ Castiel can hear Seir’s voice echo in his mind. Cas slightly turns his head in his familiar’s direction and says, “I know.”

“Know what?” Dean asks him.

Meeting his gaze again, Cas says, “that you’re lying.”

He huffs indignantly. “I’m not lying.” When he’s met with Castiel’s incredulous gaze, he insists, “I’m not! It’s just—Cas, I’m not stupid, I know what this means for us.”

“What are you talking about?”

Averting his eyes as if he could avoid the conversation all together, he says, “come on, man, let’s not pretend, alright? I’ve seen enough of the castle, you guys are like royalty here, aren’t you? You have two options here and my money isn’t on you going back to our shitty high school and a town where people think you’re some sort of satanist freak.”

“Riches can't buy you happiness.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “So I heard, but it’d be nice to own a castle like this, huh? Although cleaning up must be a bitch.”

“That’s what magic and servants are for, Dean.”

Dean sighs and turns on his seat, deciding to leave the jokes aside for a second because Sam and Charles are going to be back anytime now and they need to talk about this, even if he doesn’t want to. Castiel needs to know that he can choose his own family over Dean and that Dean will understand. Hell, he even supports that decision, even if it means it’s over between them. His heart races, his hands sweat, but it’s the right thing to do, for Cas, it’s what he’s always wanted.

“Look, Cas… it’s not just the castle and you know it. Your family is here. All your brothers, your father… soon he’s going to get your mother. You have all this world to explore, so much to learn and a lot of catching up to do with your family. I don’t want to stand in the way of that, I—I love you and I want you to be happy so I can’t ask you to—”

“Stop talking, Dean.”

Dean blinks, mouth hanging open ever so slightly, taken aback by the sudden rudeness.

“Hmm… first of all,  _ rude _ —”

“I love you too which is why your constant underestimation of yourself drives me crazy. I’m not leaving you. The door being open changes nothing between us, Dean, I’m not leaving you. I’d like to see more of Hell, yes, but I’m not exactly on good terms with the devil and my mother never wished to live here so I would have to spend most if not all of my time on Earth nonetheless. And even if things were different, I would still find a way to be with you. I don’t want to choose between you and my family, Dean. You  _ are _ my family.”

The knot of fear in Dean’s chest gives away a little and a sweet smile pulls at the corner of his lips. Castiel returns his smile and rests his forehead against Dean’s.

“It won’t be that easy to get rid of me, Winchester,” Castiel teases him.

Dean’s hands rest on the sides of Castiel’s face, fingertips disappearing under the dark hair. He runs the top of his nose up and down Castiel’s in a tender gesture before placing a chaste kiss to his lips. His heart aches with the idea of losing Cas and, even if it’s selfish, he wants to believe that he can be as important to Castiel as his own blood family.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he admits in a whisper and he feels awful for it but there it is, the truth, his most honest desire.

“I’m not leaving,” Cas promises in return before capturing Dean’s lips on his own.

With a hand on the back of his neck, Dean draws him closer, deepening the kiss. Cas feels a chilling thrill, something exciting and powerful, when he licks into Dean’s mouth, bites his lower lip and pulls at the front of his shirt. An almost uncontrollable desire to undress him seizes him. His hands wander under Dean’s clothing, feeling and touching the warm skin, the muscles. He finds a nipple and pinches it, biting his lip with how much he loves the way Dean squirms and gasps. Castiel pushes him back until he’s almost on top of Dean. He’s so high in this uncontrollable desire and passion that he barely registers the pain in his body anymore. With every urgent moment, every touch, every delicious sound that comes out of Dean and reaches his ears, the air around them becomes charged with magic. It takes him a second to realize why it’s happening and he has to force himself out of the daze that is blurring his mind, making a great effort to pull away from Dean.

“Wait,” he pants, licking his own lips to chase the taste of Dean, “we can’t.”

“Right, sorry, you must be in pain,” Dean, also slightly out of breath, mumbles with embarrassment.

“It’s not that, Dean. You’re a human soul, in Hell. If I defile you, it could taint both our souls.”

Dean can’t help but snort, frowning comically. “ _ Defile _ me? Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“It is sex out of wedlock,” Castiel points out with a lazy shrug.

Dean barks a laugh. It’s been a while since Cas saw him smile like that and it pleases him to see it again. “Damn, Cas, didn’t know you were such a conservative. It’s kinda late to care about my purity though, isn’t it?”

Castiel narrows his eyes at him like he doesn’t think he’s being funny, though Dean grins at him like  _ he _ thinks he is, and explains, “if we taint our souls in Hell, it could mark us up so that we end up here when we die which I am guessing you don’t want. While we’re here, it’s like they’re looking for any excuse to  _ keep _ us here, to have a claim on our souls.”

It’s then that Dean’s playful grin drops. “Shit, seriously?”

“Yes. It’s fine, don’t worry, we didn’t do anything too serious but we have to be careful not to do anything too bad while we’re here.”

“Or naughty,” Dean adds with a wink that Castiel responds to by just glaring at him with a tired expression on his face. “Okay, so no sex out of wedlock in Hell, got it. You have to heal anyway. We’ll just wait until we’re back home.”

After eating some more, Dean changes Castiel’s bandages and cleans his injuries. He doesn’t seem disgusted or put off by them, Cas admires how clinical he’s about it, like his feelings are not as remotely important as getting the job done and taking care of his soulmate. Whether the flesh that still hasn’t completely closed or the blood stir his stomach is completely irrelevant, Dean just sets his jaw, frowns in concentration and tries his best not to hurt Cas while he works his magic.

While they wait together for Sam and Charles to return, the boys walk over to the window. Dean puts an arm around his waist while Cas leans on him. They look over the land, the forests and everything beyond. It’s extremely odd for the half witch to think it all belongs to him, that he has a claim on the castle and the land, and he cannot wrap his head around it. As much as he’d like to feel something for his family’s ancestral home, it’s nothing but strange and foreign to him. In his heart there’s no attachment to it whatsoever, even with all the promises of adventures and greatness and riches. He’s curious about it all, of course, but he knows that when the time comes to make a decision, he will easily choose Earth as his home instead of Hell. 

The night is restless. The horizon is alight with a red light that burns bright for miles on end. The boys observe it, wondering what its origin is.

“It could be about a dozen different things,” Castiel thinks out loud. “Hell is a very dynamic place.”

“That’s one way to call it. It’s weird, it has a kind of a medieval and dangerous vibe on the outside but at the same time this place—the castle I mean, is kinda fancy and nice. Reminds me of European castles or something.”

“Actually,” Cas starts, smiling up at him as he remembers what is supposed to be a fun fact, “many of the great European architects made deals with demons who shared with them some designs from our lands. Hell is not at all what humans make it up to be, there’s beauty here as well. There’s creation, not just destruction.”

Dean, staring at the woods surrounding the castle which are bound to be haunted as fuck (he’s damn sure he’s seen a bunch of weird shapes moving along the outskirts of the trees), lifts an eyebrow and ironically says, “yeah, real charming, Cas.”

Castiel takes a deep breath and sighs. Dean’s thumb draws circles on Castiel’s side, absentmindedly. 

“I wish I could see more of it,” Castiel admits, “but with Satan angry at me… I don’t think it’d be safe for me here. I don’t think I’m welcome here.”

“We’re safe here. At least that’s what your dad said.”

“Not even my dad can keep the devil at bay for too long, Dean. Word will get out that the door is open and that I’m here, if it hasn’t already, and then he’ll come for me.”

A shiver runs down Dean’s spine and he pulls Cas closer. Before Dean can even begin to try and convince him to go back home, where they will be safer, Castiel continues.

“I promise we’ll leave soon. I just want some time with my family, that’s all, but I promise we’ll be back in no time. You can go without me if you want but then again I don’t think you will.”

Dean smiles, staring out at the horizon with his soulmate. If it weren’t Hell, maybe it’d be romantic. “You know me, Novak, gotta stay behind and make sure you don’t die on me, man.”

“What happened to me?” Cas asks all of a sudden. He tries to think back on the latest attack, but it’s all kind of blurry. Dean’s stomach turns just thinking about it.

“It was…”

Awful. Gut-wrenching. Disturbing. Traumatizing. Stressful. 

“You were… stabbed and… choked. Then, hmm... burned.”

It pains him just thinking about it, he can barely stand to describe it. The blood, the smell of burned flesh, the lack of pulse there for a while, the way Castiel’s life was slipping through their fingers. Dean figures it’s for the best if Castiel can’t remember it, he wishes he could forget too.

“We’ll put an end to it, Dean, soon. If we’re lucky, perhaps Gabriel and the others already caught the killer.”

Dean nods but keeps his mouth shut. He prays to whatever deity is out there listening (except Satan) that his friends took care of the psycho they set out to hunt because now the town no longer has Castiel’s protection and Dean has yet to tell his boyfriend that detail, too afraid that Cas will run back home at once and sacrifice himself again too willingly, perhaps succeeding in getting himself killed this time around. He can’t stand it anymore, even if the thought of someone else dying because he can’t bear to watch Cas suffer eats up at him. He stresses on the inside, silently stewing on the guilt, wondering if it’s happened already, if someone’s died because he chose to save someone he loved instead. Because of this, a part of him actually dreads going back home, afraid of what he’ll find when he does, of facing the consequences of his actions. So he prays and he hopes desperately that Gabriel, Charlie and Garth were successful and that the danger is now over, but deep down he knows that would be too easy and things are  _ never _ easy for him so the moment he goes back home he’s going to have blood in his hands, he’s just sure of it.

Behind them they hear the distinct noise of the door being unlocked. His breath catching in his throat, Castiel spins around in the direction of the noise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Source for the second pic:  
> www.artstation.com-artwork-mrmbv  
> Absolutely love it


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait (lol, it was like 2, 3 days?) but this one was loooong.

When Sam and Charles walk through the door, Castiel and his father’s eyes meet instantly across the room. Charles breaks into a wide grin, unlike anything Dean’s seen until now, glowing with joy, and throws his arms out, welcoming his son, while tears gather in Castiel’s eyes, blurring his vision.

“My son! You’re up!” he beams happily.

“Dad!”

Dean cannot help tailing Cas while he strides in his father’s direction, expecting the hurried walk to be too much for him to handle. Cas all but collapses into Charles’s arms and they both wrap their arms around each other. The boy can nearly not believe it, he had lost hope a long time ago that he would ever get to do this, to hug his father, be there with him, have him be a solid person by his side instead of just an image in a mirror. He wants to say something but a lump in his throat blocks every word he ever thought he’d say if he got to see his dad again.

“I knew you’d pull through just fine,” Charles tells his son with confidence. He pulls away, holding his son’s face in his hands to examine him, and smirks in a way that is all too similar to Gabriel. “Nearly indestructible is what I told your mother you were when you were born. She didn’t think it was funny, neither did Dean when I told him. They’re both quite feisty when it comes to looking after you.”

Charles chuckles, eyes momentarily leaving Cas to glance over at Dean who awkwardly massages the back of his neck. He’s a tad embarrassed but never sorry to look after someone he loves. If he’s honest, Charles’ overly confidence in Castiel’s powers made him uneasy. The way he downplayed his son’s injury, the way he wasn’t grabbing his hair and biting his nails like Dean was, practically rendered the hunter unable to trust him but Cas pulled through and Charles proved to be right. There’s just something about Hell that makes Castiel even  _ stronger _ .

“I’m really happy to see you,” Castiel tells him, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Me too, son, me too. Come on, now that you’re awake I’ll show around and we’ll put you back in the fountain of lost souls, that ought to make you feel better.”

“The what…?” Cas asks under his breath.

“It’s a healing fountain powered by doomed souls,” Dean tells him and there’s clearly an edge of disapproval in his tone but Charles decidedly ignores it. “Shouldn’t he rest some more though?”

Just thinking about the many sets of stairs they have to go through to actually get to the fountain makes him tired. Surely, the trip will be even worse for Cas in his delicate state.

Dean’s concern falls on deaf ears and Charles puts an arm around Castiel and leads him out of the room, their familiars following them closely behind. Sam gives Dean a sympathetic smile while the eldest Winchesters sighs his frustration. The brothers have a silent conversation with each other in which Sam allows Dean to choose their next move and, of course, they end up rushing behind the Novaks. 

It is evident that Castiel is making an effort to keep up with the pace his father sets, sometimes inhaling deeply to catch his breath as if it were difficult to breathe, which has Dean sourly biting his tongue not to call out Charles in his recklessness and child-like excitement. Either oblivious to his son’s condition or underestimating it, the father talks nonstop, pointing things out to Castiel, telling him all about the amazing things in the castle, the magical objects, the historic relics he needs to see. 

“It would actually take you a few days to see all the castle properly,” Charles comments, talking so fast there’s barely enough time for Cas to say anything. Even if the half witch wanted to though, he’s so fascinated and in awe for everything he lays his eyes on that his mind is blank and he is all too glad to let his father do the talking and show him around. 

At the bottom of every stair Castiel has to take a moment to catch his breath before they continue but Charles encourages him on every single time. The kid can’t even stand completely straight. While Dean understands Cas is powerful and getting better with every second that passes by, he cannot help but think this trip might be a little too much for his boyfriend. He finds himself constantly looking over at his brother for any signs that he’s not crazy, that Sam sees this too, but his brother simply shrugs, like there’s just nothing they can do about it, and follows the free tour. In all honesty he would love to stay back and get familiar with the entire castle, more importantly the library, but he keeps his opinion to himself because that’s just not what Dean needs to hear at the moment.

Everyone they come across with is delighted to meet Castiel and shake his hand. Witches, vampires, werewolves, demons and others, they all treat Cas like royalty and some actually bow to Charles when the group walks past them. A few throw the hunters in training dirty looks while others resort to ignoring them altogether. Dean thinks it’s for the best that they keep their distance because he knows some of these creatures are bound to be evil,  _ really  _ evil, and he has no interest in shaking hands with demons and pretending to be friendly just because they have allies in common. If it weren’t for Cas, he would leave the castle, this entire plane of existence, as soon as possible, but he refuses to leave his boyfriend behind. 

When they get to the fountain of lost souls, Castiel is slightly put off by the fact that he is healing through the suffering of damned souls, but even Dean encourages him to go in for a little while. They tell themselves that after all those people must have done something awful and deserved to end up in Hell, to try and decrease their guilt.

Castiel strips off most of his clothes, except for his underwear and goes into the water. He sits on the edge of the fountain briefly, to take his bandages off. Looking down at his injuries he cannot help but have his stomach stirring. The cuts are ugly, of an angry and intense red. They look and feel painful and serious. He is quite literally staring into his insides. When the Winchesters tell him the wounds have actually improved monumentally, a shiver runs down his spine and he meets Dean’s eyes. Dean’s face hardens at the thought of the original lacerations, a haunting memory he can’t stop seeing when he closes his eyes to sleep. Castiel cannot imagine being in his position, watching the one he loves suffer so profoundly. He must have been in terrible condition, really dying, if  _ these  _ wounds are considered harmless by them compared to their previous state. As he rests his back against the edge of the fountain, Castiel reaches for Dean’s hand, telling him without words that it’s alright, he pulled through, he’s fine now, Dean can stop going over those memories now.

Once in the water, Castiel feels two different things. First of all, it’s like the water is buzzing, fizzy, like soda water with invisible gas. Secondly, around his wounds he starts feeling a cold sort of relief right away. The area becomes somewhat numb and he’s less aware of the pain. He sighs, enjoying the lack of discomfort for a change, feeling his muscles relax instead of being constantly clenched with soreness. 

“Better, huh?” his father smiles knowingly, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’ll work even better while you're awake. Allow yourself to draw power from it, son, let it in.”

“It feels a bit odd,” Castiel comments, scooping up water in his hands and bringing it closer to his eyes, searching for any signs of the origin of the buzzing feeling. It isn’t quite magic, it’s something more tactile.

“The buzzing, you mean?” Cas nods in response. “That’s the vibrations of the souls screaming.”

The small piece of information has Castiel tensing up again, finding the sensation in the water less curious and more distributing, while Sam looks horrified and Dean simply decides to turn away to hide his strong rejection to what he’s heard. He doesn’t mean to be rude and he wants Castiel to get better but Hell... Hell and its ways are a bit much for him.

After that, Castiel does not want to spend much longer in the water, even though he does realize that spending just a short period of time in the pool helps him more than any other healing potion he’s ever tried. He’s well enough not to have to resort to it and he begins to use his own magic to feed his healing. It works but it tires him even more than he already was, so the trip back to his room takes a toll on him. As they head up the stairs, Dean has to help him up and ensure he doesn’t faint or something and falls down. Only then, when Cas is sweating and stopping to catch his breath, does his father finally admit that Castiel should take it slow for the rest of the day.

This time, Charles guides them to another bedroom, one with enough beds for the three boys to spend the night together. It goes without saying that they could all have separate bedrooms since the castle has more than enough space to provide them all with their own private rooms, but Charles gets ahead of the game and sets them all up together before Dean can request so. There, they’re joined by Castiel’s brother, Michael, who Dean thinks is either a fantastic actor or actually pleased to meet his brother. Cas is rather nervous when they meet, stammering a little and behaving shyly, like the new kid at school who wants nothing but to impress the popular ones and belong with them. Dean can’t help but keep a close eye on Micheal and though he doesn’t want to burst Castiel’s bubble, he makes a mental note to later remind him that one of his siblings is a murderer that needs to be stopped. While Dean understands Castiel’s desire to meet his family, they have serious matters to attend to. 

However, Dean once again bites his tongue and goes along with the situation, letting Castiel momentarily play house and be happy while reuniting with his family. Dean just doesn’t have the heart to ruin his fun, Cas deserves  _ one _ day of joy, after all he suffered to protect others, after all he’d waited to get there.

Charles has a splendid feast delivered to their bedroom. There is more food than they can eat and although there are a few things that look bizarre and frankly gross, like dragon’s heart, there are plenty of delicious things to it. At some point Dean just asks Charles to stop explaining what things are because ignorance sometimes is bliss and this is one of those occasions. 

The conversation is predominantly dominated by the Novaks, the Winchesters barely get a word in, not because they are not invited to participate but because the main topics revolve around family stories and the magic world… Dean and Sam don’t know much about either. They sit and listen and smile and nod, Dean keeping a close eye on Castiel, whose face is full of wonder, lit up like a Christmas tree. He laughs more than Dean has ever heard him before, completely at ease with the two men. Seeing him this happy, something aches in Dean’s chest; he wonders if it wouldn’t be better for Castiel to stay with his family, where he obviously fits in so well, after they take care of the whole impending apocalypse business. Perhaps Dean ought to convince him to stay and release him of his promise to go back to Earth with him. Dean doesn’t want to be the reason he gives up his family, gives up being this happy. They’re young, they could always find each other again in the future if they’re meant to end up together. It would be painful to let go but Dean could do that to make him happy, he would suck it up and wait until Cas returned back to him on his own volition, when the time is right.

That feeling intensifies when he wakes up the next day to Castiel and Michael talking in a corner of the room. Dean doesn’t move, he stays in bed, completely still, listening in on their conversation for some strange reason. Michael tells Cas about his favourite places in Hell, the distant lands where his friends live and creatures Dean has never heard of, offering over and over again to show Castiel everything, if he wants to travel with his older brother one day. He offers to teach Castiel proper magic, that which cannot be performed on Earth, to learn to control his gift and lose the fear of losing control. Cas makes no promises, he gives vague excuses like he still has some businesses to attend to on Earth, but he does confess he would love to. Dean closes his eyes and pretends to sleep, relieved that Castiel is not excited enough to forget the bigger picture but despairing internally, becoming more and more convinced that if Castiel really wants to go, maybe Dean will have to push him in that direction. If Cas won’t let go, Dean will make him, if that’s the best for him. He cannot imagine how he could ever compete with his real family and with the amazing life he could have in Hell, after dealing with the devil.

Not long after, Castiel wakes up the Winchesters to meet with his father again. In all honesty, even though he knows no harm could ever come to them under the protection of his father, he would also rather have a protective eye on the only two mortals in the entire land. A day of rest is all he can take before anxiety and eagerness put him in motion again. Seeing his father and meeting one of his brothers is a dream come true but the family reunion is not yet complete; his mother is missing. Cas seems to be buzzing with excitement while Michael leads them through the maze of hallways, stairs and doors, until they reach his father’s study again. There they find him hunched over his desk with a bunch of people—well,  _ creatures _ , surrounding him. The three boys pick up on the mood right away; their conversation sounds concerned and agitated, debating ideas with each other, moving pieces over maps that are laid out on the desk.

“Dad?” Cas asks tentatively.

Charles snaps his head in his son’s direction, somewhat taken aback by his presence. He murmurs something to his companions and rushes to the door, practically pushing the four of them out of the room and leading them towards another one.

“My apologies,” he says, “I am quite busy this morning.”

Dean frowns, looking at him up and down, studying him. Charles fidgets, anxiously moving the palm of his hands against each other. He is nervous and there’s a sense of contained urgency in his actions, like he’s trying but failing to look calm.

“Oh, the meeting with the generals,” Michael remembers, nodding to himself. “I forgot, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Charles breaks into a smile, charming and ready to dote on his youngest son. “I’m afraid I need to get back to the meeting, but I’d be happy to spend the rest of the day with you, son. Is there anything you need?”

Castiel hesitates for a second and something like confusion flashes in his eyes. He is well aware that his father is important and busy, for he hadn’t expected the door to Hell to be opened overnight, to be able to go back to Earth, and he surely has a lot of things to prepare before he can leave once again, but after so long Castiel would have thought his father would be just as eager as him to free Clarice from her curse. He would have expected that to be the very first thing that popped into his head the moment the door opened, the top to-do item in his priority list.

“I was just wondering when we’re going home. You know, to—to free mom.”

Judging by the pained look on his father’s face, it’s obvious to Cas his father had been fearing the subject would be brought up sooner rather than later and he cannot help but take it badly. For a brief instant he fears that his father has changed his mind and wonders if all these years he’s been lying, only pretending to still care about his wife because it seemed impossible to reach her anyway, so what was the harm in lying? Castiel doesn’t want to believe it and his brain fights this crazy idea; deep down he  _ knows _ his father loves his mother, Charles couldn’t have been acting when he spoke about her and his tone naturally softened every single time, but there is  _ definitely _ something he isn’t telling Castiel and that doesn’t sit well with his son at all.

“What is it?” Castiel snaps quickly. The lights flicker, reflecting his outburst of anger. It’s perhaps an overreaction, but he cannot help himself, feeling the darkness in him multiplied in intensity in this land. Just like he had been tempted to corrupt Dean, he is tempted now to go further with his fury and suspicions, and it’s harder to control it. He’s just so tired of the lies and half truths. “There’s something you’re not telling me.  _ Again. _ ”

“Right back at you, son,” Charles replies calmly, not allowing his son’s outburst to affect him in the slightest. His eyes momentarily flicker in Dean’s direction, who has already all but admitted to have secrets, secrets that Castiel must know about.

His father’s response does nothing but fuel his sudden rage. Closing his hands into fists, Cas does his best to fight the temptation to yell, he barely keeps his voice in check when he asks, “why aren’t you running to save her? Why have you waited  _ three  _ days?”

Charles and Michael exchange glances, communicating with each other silently. Castiel exhales sharply, frustrated for being let out while Sam and Dean wait awkwardly on the side, wondering if perhaps they should leave them alone to argue in private, but then again they don’t want to bring attention to themselves by leaving and Dean  _ really _ wants to hear Charles’ answer.

Eventually, Charles sighs and relents. His shoulders drop in defeat and he pinches the bridge of his nose as he walks over to the window. He taps the window with his fingers and turns to look at his son over his shoulder.

“Do you see that, Castiel? The red light on the horizon?”

Cas walks over to the window, only sparing the view a second of his attention before focusing back on his father. He nods.

“That's not supposed to be there. That’s not normal.”

“What is that?”

Ominously, Charles responds in a grave voice, “war. An army unlike any I’ve ever seen before, heading in our direction. They’ll be here in no time...”

Silence falls in the room. Taking a quick look at the crowded table he suddenly understands the maps and the moving pieces; they’re readying themselves for a fight, they’re planning their next move. Cas looks over his shoulder at Dean, concerned but not  _ entirely _ surprised by this news. With five sacrifices under her sleeve in Lucifer’s name, the witch wannabe killer is getting closer and closer to her goal of casting the spell to break the peace treaty, allowing Hell to cross over to the human world. They have been expecting Lucifer to gather an army to take on the other realm, they just didn’t know it was already in motion.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Castiel asks, more exasperated than angry this time.

“I didn't want you to worry,” Charles responds and there’s an edge of urgency in his voice, like he doesn’t want his son to think he’s a liar but that he had actual good reasons to keep this from him. “Had I known you’d open the door, I would have told you. My son…” Castiel’s father takes a deep breath and cups his son’s face in his hands, staring at him in pain. “It isn’t safe for you here. You should not have come and you should not stay. You needed to heal and you have, for the most part. You should leave soon. I just… I just wanted some time with you.”

Castiel blinks a few times, confused by the sudden turn of events. Just a few hours before that Michael was making promises of travelling together around Hell… but he knew about this war...

“But Michael said—”

“It’s temporary,” his father assures him, sounding more like he wants to desperately believe that rather than knowing it to be true, “when things are back to normal, I will talk to our Lord Satan myself to make sure you’re given safe passage through our land. He’s always been so proud of you, I am sure he will receive you in his realm after we let things cool off. He’s proud, it’ll take him a while to get over your rejection but he’ll move on soon enough to something else, it isn’t like him to fixate on one thing. He gets bored and moves onto a new toy fast.”

Castiel is not convinced at all, his father’s promises come off more like his own hopes than anything else, but he doesn’t point that out.

“What about my mother? You only need to go back to Earth for like an hour, you won’t be gone more than a day. Dean can drive—”

Charles’ grimace is all Cas needs as a negative response. Shaking his head, his father explains, “I cannot leave, Castiel, not while this army is getting closer and closer. My allies need me here, it would not look good if I disappeared for a mortal just before battle.”

“She’s not just a mortal, she’s my  _ mother, _ ” Cas defiantly protests, clenching his age with barely contained anger.

“Cas, you have to know I would run to her if I could, but if I leave, my allies leave too and I  _ have _ to protect my land, my people. I am needed here. And I—I swore to Purson I’d stay.”

Confused, Cas blinks a couple of times, going back to the conversation he had with Gabriel months ago. “You owe him allegiance? Why? Gabriel said you never made a deal with him.”

“But _ you _ did. Your loyalty for answers. And as much as he’s been a good friend, a demon like that with power over someone like you… I couldn’t let him bind you, so I took your place.”

Castiel’s eyebrows shoot up and he stares in horror at his father with his mouth hanging open. He’s got so many questions—why, how, when—but Charles has no time to answer them. 

Grabbing his son by his shoulders, he argues, “it’s a good thing I did it, son. After what you did, I convinced him to let your promise go, I told him Dean would never open that door and he believed me. It was more convenient for him to have me under his control  _ immediately  _ than  _ maybe _ someday have you. And look how things turned out! He would have been able to claim you if I hadn’t and who knows for how long he would have kept you here. And I need him, I need his army, everybody wins.”

Castiel struggles to process the information. He feels like an idiot, like a reckless child causing trouble everywhere he goes. He should have never asked Purson any questions, but then he might have not found the killer’s plot and everyone would be in so much more trouble. The guilt consumes him though, because of his impulsiveness his father had to risk his neck to set him free and now Charles can’t save his wife, even though he’s been waiting  _ decades _ , in Hell time, to see her again.

“But—”

“Son, I  _ have _ to stay. If not for Purson, for my people. Your mother is the most selfless, wonderful woman I’ve ever met. She’d have my head if I told her I deserted my country and everyone in it for her.”

A strained smile spreads across his face; however painful, the mere thought of her sparks some sort of flame and joy in him, although it is mixed with the agony that comes from being separated from her. 

“Help is on the way. I was just meeting with my generals, deciding our next move and where to place the troops that are coming. I have to get back, Castiel. The sooner I fix it, the sooner we can be a family again.”

Suddenly finding his voice, Dean asks, “what about us? What do we do?”

When Charles meets his gaze, Dean is surprised to find something like begging in his eyes. “You should leave soon,” he repeats, hating every word of it, “but can you stay? Just a little bit longer?”

It’s like he’s asking permission from Dean, permission to put Cas in danger just for another day, to have the opportunity to make a few more memories with his son. Dean doesn’t know what to say under the spotlight, he hates being in that position. If it were up to him, they’d leave right away. He’s not just worried about Castiel’s safety, but also Sammy’s and his friends back on Earth. Castiel, realizing how uncomfortable Dean is, walks over to him and grabs his hands.

In a low whisper, he says, “I know what you're thinking and if it’s too much to ask, you know you can leave when you want… if it’s alright with you, could we stay? One more day? Please?”

A part of Dean thinks it’s unfair of Castiel to ask him that but he also completely understands him; if the roles were reversed, there’s nothing Dean wouldn't do to see his mother one more time and he cannot even begin to imagine life without Sammy in it. He would have probably not made it without him this long.

His searches for the answer in Sam’s face, who remains quiet and patient. They do that thing again where they communicate without words. Sam was ready to go back home from the moment they arrived but knows he needs to return with Dean. At the same time, he can’t help being sympathetic to Castiel's position and also feeling sorry for him. In the end Sam does a sort of defeated shrug that mimics the way Dean feels inside; he’ll stay if Dean stays, who will stay if Castiel stays.

“Fine,” Dean finally agrees, though he does not feel it’s the right call, “but Cas, it’ll be four hours tomorrow that we’ve been gone from Earth. We have to get back, we have to find out what happened, if they caught the witch or not.”

Castiel nods in agreement, sucking in a breath in relief. “Tomorrow, I promise…”

Charles goes back to his meeting while Michael keeps them entertained. Dean notices that while the witch is polite to them, he always keeps his distance, preferring to have Castiel between them. He doesn’t think Michael is  _ afraid _ of him, because it would be ridiculous to think that Dean can be a threat to a powerful and experienced witch, but it does amuse him that just because he’s a hunter, a Men of Letters, he is granted some level of respect for carrying the title. The other guests and workers in the castle aren’t courteous like Michael, they won’t pretend to welcome the Winchesters, and for the most part prefer to get out of their way. Dean doesn’t know much about the history of the Men of Letters or their accomplishments, but he figures they must have been rather good if the inhabitants of none other than Hell still find them, to this day, somewhat intimidating or threatening, even the junior members like the Winchester boys. If only they knew how terribly inexperienced they actually are…

The castle is equally magnificent and frightening, interesting and repulsing. It’s crawling with art and beautiful things, some harmless, some life threatening and dangerous to those who ignore their power, which is why Michael recommends them, especially the humans, not to touch anything. While Castiel should be immune to most cursed objects under his father’s protection, they rather not risk it given that he is still healing and half human. Behind many objects there are bloody stories that include the suffering of mortals as well as other creatures. Dean doesn’t love those and however interesting and valuable the items might be, he silently thinks it’s in poor taste to keep them around as decoration. He tries to be understanding because he doesn’t want to resent his boyfriend’s family; witches and humans were at war with one another for so long, both hurting each other, that of course the witches would want to keep trophies of their victories but it still creeps him out. He makes a mental note to himself to check the bunker when they go back and take down anything that celebrates the killing of another creature, even if it was necessary to do so at the time by another Men of Letters. One thing is to kill evil creatures to protect innocents, but another is boasting about it. Perhaps it’s a generational thing, perhaps it’s because he’s new at this, or maybe it’s because he’s friends with witches and werewolves, but it just feels wrong.

Sam and Dean struggle against whatever it is about Hell that tires them down constantly. Cas, who also needs a break, suggests they go back to their room for a while so they can all rest. Michael happily escorts them back, because the place is so huge they could never make it back on their own, and stays with his brother for a while before he too is called into a meeting. A bit more relaxed with no witches in the vicinity (well, except for Cas, technically), Dean manages to fall asleep and takes a nap. Some time later Cas wakes them up to have dinner. Sam entertains himself with books for the most part, which Dean thinks it’s rude but nobody else seems to mind, while the Novaks continue with their easy and lively conversations. They click together perfectly, they get along like they haven’t spent most of their lives apart. Again Dean can’t help but think Castiel belongs here, where people respect him and he will thrive allowing himself to be who he really is instead of constantly having to hold himself back. He’s got to admit he’s somewhat relieved Cas  _ has _ to go back, for now, as Hell isn’t safe for him. If the time comes for them to part ways, it isn’t in the immediate future at least.

Sam falls asleep on his chair and Dean helps him to his bed, struggling with his still injured arm. The Novaks prepare to leave the room to let the mortals turn in for the night. When Dean goes to bed, Cas seems to have the intention to follow him but he doesn’t look at all ready to sleep, even if he is somewhat tired from feeding his healing with his magic.

As he sits on the edge of the bed, Dean holds a hand up and says, “it’s okay, Cas, why don’t you go spend time with your family?”

Dean’s controlled but slightly distant tone takes Castiel by surprise. His eyebrows meet in the middle momentarily and Dean knows he’s wondering if Dean’s mad. 

“Just be careful, alright?” Dean adds, lowering his voice, looking past Castiel’s shoulder to Michael who is standing by the door talking to his father. A part of Dean doesn’t think it’s him, but they don’t know for sure and that’s enough not to trust him. 

Echoing his thoughts, Cas says, “I don’t think it’s him.”

“Yeah, me neither… but still. And, Cas, don’t you think we should tell your dad? About the spell? Cause that army, that can be no coincidence. They’re coming for him or to get through the door once he’s, you, know, out of the picture.”

“I’ll tell him before leaving.” 

Dean exhales, clearly disagreeing with that choice. “Okay, man, it’s your call.”

Cas reaches out to touch his cheek and Dean leans into the touch. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Dean nods although it isn’t true, he would really love Castiel to stay safely in his arms. “I’ll have Seir stay with you.”

Dean would prefer Seir stayed with his master but understands Cas also wants someone to watch over them while they sleep. Honestly, Dean is no coward but appreciates it; the place is full of people who would just love to see him and his kind dead, and though he’s pretty sure they wouldn’t dare go against Charles’ orders to be nothing but good hosts to them alone, it’s better to be safe than sorry.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

They kiss goodnight and Castiel senses there’s something odd about it. Dean is still distant, lost in his thoughts.

“Is everything alright?” Cas whispers against his lips.

“Yeah, just… just really like seeing you happy, Cas, and I wish… I wish you could stay with your family.”

Understanding dawning on him, Castiel doesn’t know what to say. There’s no doubt in his mind he’s going back with Dean the next day but it's true a part of him wishes he could stay and there’s just no point denying it, they both know that.

However, Dean doesn’t want him to feel bad because what Castiel feels is completely natural and understandable, no matter what it could mean for them and their future. So, as if to let him know there are no hard feelings, Dean nudges Castiel’s nose with his in an affectionate manner and smiles tiredly. “Go, babe. They’re waiting for you.”

“I’ll come back,” Cas promises and it means so much more than just that night.

“And I’ll be here when you do.”

Castiel walks over to his father and brother who are delighted to spend more time with him. Seir flies over to Dean’s bed, tentatively scooting over until he’s practically leaning against Dean's head. It’s bizarre how close they’ve become, a spirit from Hell and a hunter, but their love for Cas brings them together and makes fierce allies out of them.

“Night, Seir,” Dean mutters.

From the door Castiel waves at him goodnight before leaving with his family. The lights in the room become dim but don’t leave them completely immersed in darkness. Dean turns his neck to check on Sammy who is already fast asleep. Somehow, he’s still got that book under his arm, the nerd. The sight pulls a smile at the corner of Dean’s lips but then suddenly his chest becomes tight. So focused he was in saving Cas that he once again fears he may have disregarded other people’s lives in the process. The door to Hell is open and cannot be closed without someone paying a high price for it, and meanwhile there is an army marching towards them, fighting their way through, and a psycho trying to liberate them into Earth. Watching Sammy sleep, Dean wonders how much longer he’ll be able to keep him safe and that he will never forgive himself if any harm comes to him or anyone else back home. That would be completely on him.

Uneasy but tired, honestly looking forward to the next day and returning home, he goes to sleep.

Hours later he is woken up abruptly by the door swinging open and brusquely slamming into the wall. Dean sits up, alarmed, and finds none other than Gabriel bursting through the door. To say he looks like he had a rough day is an understatement; there’s a trail of dry blood on the side of his head, going all the way up to his hairline and disappearing there, and several little cuts in his face and arms; he’s dirty, black smudges covering his clothes and even smeared across his face combined with layers of sweat, as if he ran a marathon, stopped and then continued, creating different layers of dirt. On top of that he’s panting hard, inhaling for air like his lungs are about to burst.

“Jesus!” Dean exclaims as he throws the cover to the side and jumps to his feet, “what the hell happened to you?”

“What the Hell are  _ you _ doing?” Gabriel counters, throwing his arms out. He puts his hands on his hips and takes a deep breath before continuing while Dean and Sam hurry to put their shoes on. “You’re  _ sleeping _ ? Are you on freaking vacations? We need you back there!”

“We thought we had time—”

“Well, we don’t! The spell is almost done. Where’s my father? He’s next.”

“What do you mean, he’s next? That’s impossible! Is Gilda—”

Without an ounce of patience to hear Dean out, Gabriel interrupts him and quickly explains, “she’s fine, we saved her but you broke the spell, didn’t you? The bitch caused a huge fire because she knew I’d save people instead of going after her, but I couldn’t—this one kid…”

Gabriel averts his eyes, fists shaking with fury. Dean’s stomach is in knots; that death is on him, whoever that kid was he died because Dean chose to save Cas instead.

“While I was trying to control the fire and save as many people as we could, we lost her so we went to the hospital to get information on her. Charlie was smart, she checked all the records of patients that were in contact with her recently and there was this one kid that died, the first victim of all, just a baby. It went unnoticed, wrote down as sudden infant death syndrome. It’s seven sacrifices in total, she pulled it off, my father’s next. I go home to find a pool of blood and you idiots missing, and I knew right away just what your foolish ass had done. Be thankful that I still had your blood or I wouldn’t have been able to come and warn you while you  _ assholes _ took your sweet time coming back.”

“It was the only way to save him!”

“And you will have us all killed in the process! You should have waited!” Gabe barks back, getting right in Dean’s face. “Now where the fuck is Castiel? We need to get the Hell out of here and we need to close the door. I can’t believe I have to die to clean up your mess because you couldn’t follow my goddamn orders!”

Before Dean can argue that if anyone has to suffer the consequences of closing the door it’s him, Gabriel is off again, hurrying down the corridors looking for his family. Seir dashes out the room, the boys running behind him, and guides Gabriel to his brother.

When he finds them, their merry reunion is short lived. Michael, closest to the door, jumps to his feet and pulls his brother into his arms. He holds him tightly and with an urgency that Dean can sympathize with if their roles were reversed, if he had to spend decades without Sammy.

“Oh, Satan! Brother, how you’ve aged,” Michael teases him but his smirk drops when he actually takes a second to take in Gabriel’s appearance. 

Gabe exchanges a look with his brother and Dean feels truly bad for him because this is all Gabe has been waiting for, for over a decade, and he doesn’t have time to stop and enjoy it. Not only that, but he’s planning to go back to Earth and die for them. Watching his jaw tremble there’s obviously nothing else he’d want more than to stay and talk to his dear brother.

“We have to go,  _ now _ ,” Gabe says, pulling away from Michael and walking over to Cas, gesturing with his hand for his brother to get up and follow him. Then, finally meeting his father’s gaze, he takes a deep breath for courage and says, “dad, either Rapahel or Lucifer are plotting to kill you. If it were Michael, he would have done it by now.”

Charles breaks a laugh, as if that's the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. But Gabriel’s face is severely grave, leaving no doubt that he, the jokester of the family, is deadly serious.

“It’s not a theory, it’s a  _ fact _ , something Clarice found out years ago and didn’t tell you to spare you from the pain. I foolishly made the same choice but I am telling you now. One of them has been lending their magic to a mortal, a psycho—”

Charles clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Satan would  _ never  _ allow that, we are not to share our gifts with—”

“Dad, it’s  _ Satan _ . He gets to bend the rules if he wants to, if it fits his plans. We weren’t supposed to wed mortals and father half witches, but hey, there is Castiel! So deal with it. One of my brothers is about to cast a spell to break the peace treaty and  _ you _ are the last sacrifice. That army is coming for you and when they get you, Earth is the next stop. So I’m sorry I don’t have time to stay and chat but I need to take these idiots home,” he exclaims, gesturing around to the younger boys, “and make sure that door is closed before an army of demons destroys the other realm.”

“But there are still sacrifices missing,” Cas points out.

Gabriel nervously runs his hands through his hair; he doesn’t have time to explain everything. “Long story short, there was a victim, the real first one, that we didn’t know about and Dean broke the spell so someone died right after you came here.”

Dean can see Castiel processing the information, going pale and then slowly loading all his anger, which he directs at Dean. “You broke the spell!? And you didn’t think to tell me sooner? Dean, it was the only thing keeping the killer under control!”

In his defense, Dean says, “you were dying, Cas! I had to!”

And damn Dean to Hell but he doesn’t regret it, not when it most likely saved him.

Dean sets his jaw and gives Cas a pleading look. He cannot say he’s sorry even if the death of a person will haunt him forever because he does think he’s guilty for it. He could have stopped it but he wasn’t willing to pay the price for it. Castiel is so angry, Dean averts his eyes in shame and instead focuses on Charles. Just watching him, Dean knows something clicks inside of the witch’s brain. He shakes his head, brows knitted together, and lets out a nervous laugh, but his smile fades slowly while he does the math in his head, tying together everything he knows has happened and realizing that, unfortunately, it makes sense. He takes a few steps back and leans against a desk, resting his hands on it to stabilize himself.

“No… no, it can’t be…”

Surprisingly, Micheal steps up to help Gabriel’s cause. “Father… Father, you  _ have  _ said yourself that Lucifer has—”

“No!” Charles roars over his son’s voice, closing his eyes in denial. “He wouldn’t—”

“You know there are rumours he’s working with the enemy.”

“He’s coming to help us! He should be here any time now!”

“He’s coming  _ here _ ?” Gabriel asks, alarmed, taking a few steps towards his father. “You  _ cannot _ let him in! Dad, he  _ will _ attack you.”

Narrowing his eyes at Gabriel, Charles hisses, “he’s my son! I will not turn my own son away!” 

“He’s plotting to kill you!” Castiel tries to argue with him.

“He was always jealous,” Michael points out and though Dean doesn’t know the whole story, there’s evidently disapproval in his tone. Michael, who Gabriel always described as the righteous son, is clearly ready to forsake his brother for daring such an ungly betrayal to their family. "He never approved of Clarice.  _ Or _ Castiel. Father, it makes sense. Raphael… well, he never really approved either but I don’t think he’d dare. He isn’t that bold. But Lucifer… he could be.”

Trapped by logic but denying what he’s being told nonetheless, out of love, out of inability to believe his son could truly become  _ that _ vile, Charles continues to shake his head. He turns his back on them, nervously combing his hands through his hair.

Gabriel shifts his weight from one foot to the other, exhaling impatiently.

“Dad—”

Charles holds a hand up to silence him. After a moment, he points a finger at him and says, “you go, take the boys. Do not close that door. I will come back for you. For my Clarice.” There’s a passionate fire in his eyes, a resolution and seriousness unlike Dean has seen before in the man. The love and the pain of losing his wife burn through him, and the time constraint weighs down his shoulders. “Lucifer… I’ll handle him.”

Gabe shakes his head and bites his lip. He just cannot reason with the man. “It won’t work and you know it.”

Turning around to face his kids, Charles pleads, “he’s my son. I have to at least  _ try _ .”

“Look, I—I’ll come back and check on you. And if it gets bad… I’ll have to close the door, dad.”

This triggers Castiel right away. “I’ll—”

“Shut up, Cas,” Gabriel snaps. They cannot have that discussion, Gabe cannot afford to be dissuaded, he’s already struggling to come to terms with his imminent doom. If someone has to close that door, he’s sure as Hell not going to let his little brother sacrifice himself and Cas would never recover if he lost Dean so that’s not an option either. Maybe a few years ago he would have let someone else do it to save himself, but now he can’t just allow a kid to die in his place, whether it’s Sam or Charlie, Garth, Benny or whoever. It’s just not going to happen. His only regret is not having enough time to say goodbye to Kali. “You’re not closing the door, don’t even  _ think _ about it. And get your ass over here and let’s go. It’s not safe for you here.”

The Winchesters give the Novaks a few moments to say their goodbyes. Dean overhears Michael promising Gabriel to look after their father as neither thinks Charles will have the heart to stop Lucifer, and by stop they mean killing him. Michael is rather gentle with Cas when they say their goodbyes and the youngest of Charles’ sons gets teary when he gives his father a hug goodbye. 

Gabriel is quiet as they march through the castle he called home most of his life. He is pissed and tired and hurt but leads them back to safety with absolute resolution. In that moment, Dean has nothing but utmost admiration for the guy who is leaving his home, this time probably thinking he’ll never get to return, dead set on protecting his little brother even if he has to give up his own life for it. On the other hand, Dean holds Castiel’s hand the entire time and pretends he doesn’t notice when Cas wipes his eye with the back of his hand a few times. Nobody says it but they are all thinking the same; whatever happens next, it’s not going to end well. Lucifer is not just going to relent and change his mind and hug it out with his father. He’s been resenting Charles for far too long, he had a long time to change his mind yet he put his plans back in motion the moment he could. He’s mad with jealousy and they doubt there’s anything Charles can say to stop his son. Dean just hopes, for Castiel’s sake, that Charles will be smart and strong enough in his will to fight his son if it comes down to it. He really hopes the guy doesn’t get killed.

When they finally return home and come into the dark chamber leading into Hell, Gabriel gets down to business.

“Right, okay,” he says, clasping his hands together, pushing through every other feeling piling up in his gut, “we all know time goes faster in Hell so there’s no time to waste, we need to get ready for the worst case scenario. Which, trust me, dad is delusional if he thinks Lucifer will just kindly tell the army marching towards the castle to go home.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes, frustrated with his own family, and crosses his arms over his chest, looking around the three boys waiting for something. Dean raises an eyebrow in silent question. 

When nobody responds or sprint into action, he presses, “they key. Who has the key?”

“Dean,” Sam quickly responds at the same time Dean says, “Sam.”

Automatically the brothers share a panicked look, first in shock that the other said their name, then in horror as they both realize neither took the key when they ventured into Hell, too busy at the time worrying about Castiel spilling out his guts on the floor. In unison they turn towards the door and freeze when they notice the key is missing.

“I’m going to go ahead and say you two are magnificent actors,” Gabriel starts sarcastically, putting his hands in front of his mouth in a praying position, “because you have to be pretending right now. The other option is you’re not and you do not have the key with you and you do not know where it is and that’s impossible because it is a very important and irreplaceable relic that I am sure two smart kids such as yourselves would not have forgotten to protect.”

“Dean, Sam…” Castiel glances back and forth between the brothers, as equally agitated as his brother, not wanting to believe what Gabe is insinuating. It suddenly dawns on him that he has never seen the key in their possession since he blacked out. “Where is the key?”

“It was here,” Dean desperately tells them as he marches over to the door and examines the keyhole over and over again, almost expecting the key to just pop into existence if he is stubborn enough. “We opened the door and I—I don’t know, I guess we just forgot—”

Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up in response to Dean’s words, mouth hanging open in dismay. He looks like he’s about to slap the mortal. He yells, “you  _ forgot _ ?”

“Yeah, well, I was  _ busy _ ,” Dean retorts just as agitatedly, then throws an arm out in Castiel’s direction, “cause  _ someone _ was  _ dying _ !”

“Stop fighting, it isn’t useful!” Sam cuts through their discussion, stepping in. “Cas, light up the room, will you?”

Nodding in agreement, Cas takes a few steps away and extends his arms out. All around his body flames erupt into existence, hugging his body comfortably, lighting up the room better. Everyone looks around expecting to find the key but there’s nothing but dust in the stone ground.

Scratching his head with confusion, Dean suggests, “could someone have stolen it? Someone from Hell?”

Gabriel shakes his head right away. “No, as part of the peace treaty a powerful spell was laid on the portal, it is protected. Any creature would need direct permission from my father to pass through. But you know what is concerning? That you still opened the door without knowing that.”

Gabriel and Dean narrow their eyes at each other simultaneously. 

“Could they have found a way around it?” Castiel insists, ignoring their bickering.

“I mean, it’s not  _ impossible,  _ but it is  _ extremely  _ unlikely.”

“And if an unwanted visitor came through the door, an alarm would have been set off in the bunker,” Sam adds to Gabriel’s point, a little tidbit he learned about the bunker’s protection spells.

Feeling guilty but not having time to pay attention to those feelings at the time, Dean racks his brain trying to come up with  _ something _ , some explanation. “Okay, the key is magical, right?” The Novak brothers nod while Dean vaguely remembers reading the key was forged in Hell. “Maybe it hid itself? Is that possible? Maybe it felt unprotected or something?”

The witches exchange a silent look and shrug, finding no argument to oppose Dean’s suggestion. They don’t know much about the key itself, and there isn’t much information about it either as it was forged a long,  _ long _ time ago, but just about everything that comes from Hell has  _ some _ sort of magic embedded in it, intentionally or not. The key, which had spent over ten years under Dean’s careful watch,  _ could _ have awakened to seek protection before his guardian came back for it.

“Yes, actually, that’s possible,” Cas eventually thinks out loud.

“Not entirely crazy,” Gabriel agrees.

Pleased with himself and his idea, Dean clasps his hands and starts towards the stairs, “okay, new plan: let’s scatter and look for it. It has to be here somewhere.”

They start right away, nervous and eager to find the key but rather enthusiastic too, convinced that it could not have gone far. At least, they are sure it still has to be in the bunker. They have to find it and ensure its safety, in case there’s no other choice but to close the door to stop evil forces from entering their world. Dean checks the place where he last hid the key but finds the safe box empty. As they look under every pillow and mattress, open all the cupboards in the kitchen, carefully peek inside every box in the storage room, move the couches and armchairs to the side to search underneath them and pull out every book check the space behind them, the group starts becoming more and more desperate. When a room proves to be empty, they run to the next. After two full hours of nothing but disappointment, they’re almost done checking every little corner and hiding place and panic is growing inside them.

“Sam, did you check all the boxes in the storage room?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure? Maybe you missed something?”

Firmly, he states, “I didn’t.”

“But are you  _ sure _ ?”

“Dean, I  _ didn’t _ ! It’s just not there.”

“Okay, new plan,” Gabriel suggests, cleaning the dust of his hands. “I’m going back to the castle to check on dad. I’ll be back soon with news. You kids just—just check everything again.”

Sam exhales sharply in protests. “Gabriel, it’s not here.”

“Just—just humor me, okay? Just stay here, where you are safe, and look for the goddamn key.”

The boys obey… for the most part. After 45 minutes Sam, who is convinced they have not missed any possible hiding spot, decides to check the library outside the bunker as well. Dean is against it first but there’s no stopping Sam and he has other things to worry about so Sam eventually gets his way. This leaves Dean and Cas alone. An awkward silence stretches between them as they search the main library again. There’s just so much going through their minds but no time to really talk about it, they have to focus. Dean feels Cas exuding annoyance, knowing he’s mad about Dean breaking the spell because ultimately it is his fault they’re in this rush; if it weren’t for him, the last sacrifice wouldn’t have been fulfilled. And still, he isn’t going to apologize about it, at least not to Cas, because he doesn’t regret saving him. He wishes Cas would talk to him though because something bad is coming, they can both feel it and whatever happens next he doesn’t want this to be the way they left things. They may have to close the door and Dean knows he’s going to have to fight Cas to let him do it. It’s only right that he is the one who closes it, as he opened it, it’s not fair for Gabriel to die for his choices.

The silence drags on and it drives Dean insane. They exchange a few words while they investigate rooms together, but they’re short and focused in nothing but their search. Cas’ voice is controlled but bordering on anger. He’s still pissed, avoiding Dean’s eyes. Eventually Dean cannot take it anymore, that awkwardness lingering between them mixed with the fear that he won’t get to say goodbye properly. Standing next to him in the store room, checking boxes, Cas raises his gaze to ask Dean if he’s checked the box in front of him already; Dean has and so has Sam. Instead of responding, Dean fists the front of Castiel’s shirt and pulls him into a desperate kiss. Taken by surprise, it takes Cas a second to catch up but then, surprisingly, he runs his hands through Dean’s hair and deepens the kiss, licking into Dean’s mouth hungrily, with just as much passion and raw need as Dean. Dean would be relieved of Castiel’s welcoming reaction except that everything feels urgent in a bad way, like they are tacitly agreeing that this is goodbye, that the end is coming but neither wants to address it. It makes him sick to his stomach.

Dean pulls back for air but doesn’t move away at all, pressing his entire body against Castiel’s, afraid that he’ll never get to be this close again if he lets go now. He feels Castiel’s breath in his face, hears his ragged breathing. He’s comforted by the witch’s warmth, the familiarity of his proximity. He loves him, his presence, his essence, everything about him. He loves just standing next to him.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he tells his boyfriend, fear clutching at his heart, because he knows that Cas has the power to stop Dean from closing the door if he wants to and take his place.

“I could say the same to you,” Cas responds in that hoarse voice that gets Dean every time.

“I mean it, Cas. Promise me you won’t do your martyr thing and get yourself hurt, whatever happens.”

Averting his eyes as he licks his lips, still tasting Dean on them, Cas turns away and continues the search.

“We need to find the key.”

“Cas—”

Dean grabs his arm with all the intention of continuing that conversation, of coaxing a promise out of Cas, when Gabriel bursts through the door. He looks entirely different from when he left and even worse than before; he’s changed his clothes, wearing some sort of light armor. He’s dishevelled and panting hard like he ran a marathon. There are blood stains all over him and two cuts, one in his cheek and the other in the side of his stomach, where his armor was damaged. Both wounds are bleeding but don’t seem to be too concerning.

“What the—”

Inhaling sharply to have enough breath to speak, Gabriel manages to ask, “where’s the key?”

“We haven’t found it yet,” Cas responds rather alarmed. He can tell they’re running out of time.

The sheer horror in Gabriel’s eyes sends a shiver running down Dean’s spine; if it wasn’t obvious he was the bearer of bad news before, it is now. Gabe opens his mouth to say something however, as he does, the lights in the bunker change into a red hue and alarms go off. 

“The door!” Dean exclaims. He feels for the gun he had grabbed earlier, finds it still carefully tucked in the back of his jeans and then he’s off running towards the door behind the brothers. Cas struggles, grabbing his stomach in pain with one hand; his wounds are still significant.

They go straight into the room where the portal to Hell is. There, they are relieved to find that nothing came gone through but there are terrifying monsters Dean’s never seen before pounding their fists against an invisible wall that doesn’t allow them to enter. Ripples like waves in water and cracks appear every time they hit the veil that separates the two worlds. Even though something still holds them back, the cracks are a telltale sign that the spell that keeps them from walking through the door is becoming weaker and weaker as they wait.

Suddenly paled, Cas turns towards his brother. “Is dad—”

Gabriel shakes his head. “No, he’s not. Otherwise these guys would have come through. He’s injured though and the castle was mostly overrun. I helped Micheal run away with dad but Lucifer was following them… to finish what he started. The closer he is to death, the weaker the spell that keeps these guys from joining the party becomes. We need to close this door and we need to close it  _ now _ .”

“In case dad…”

Cas trails off. He stares as his brother like he’s waiting for Gabriel to tell him he’s stupid for even suggesting that but Gabriel simply keeps his eyes locked on the creatures on the other side of the door, who are growling and shouting and trying to push their way through. 

“There are just so many of them,” Gabriel mutters, mostly to himself, “with the spell this weak they might actually just be able to…”

The moment Castiel steps forwards, full of reckless resolution, Dean knows what he’s about to do. He nearly jumps in front of him, but Gabriel reacts first, putting a hand on his brother’s chest to stop him.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“We need to stop them!”

“Don’t be arrogant,” he scolds his brother, shaking his head. “Not even you can take on an army like this. We need the key.”

“You mean this key?” a female voice says behind them.

When the trio turns around, they find Josie, the nurse they had been looking for earlier that day, waiting at the top of the stairs holding Sam with a short dagger to his neck. Dean recognizes her right away as the nurse that took care of him when he was briefly hospitalized. He remembers immediately that she took his blood that one time they met. Now the case of the missing key makes sense to him; she had access to his blood, she was the one that came to take the key, the damn thing didn’t just hide itself until Dean came back for it.

The moment Cas makes the smallest of movements towards her, readying himself to attack, she holds the dagger closer to Sam’s throat, applying pressure, and lifts the other hand up, the one holding the key, closing it tightly around Dean’s bronze treasure, and laughs maniacally as her hand turns red and the metal begins to melt. 

“No, no, no!” Dean exclaims, running forwards and falling to his knees where the liquid metal meets the rock and begins to cool. Horrified, he stares as the melted material turns into wasted nothingness. For a second he even forgets about everything, even his brother and all he can think about is his mother and how his stupidity has shamefully disgraced his mother's sacrifice. He should have known better, he should have protected the key with his life.

“What have you done? Don’t you realize this army will kill you too?” Gabriel barks at her, itching to make a move on her.

“Kill  _ me _ ? The one who freed them?” Far from scared, Josie smirks proudly. She is nothing but excited about the prospect of the apocalypse coming closer and closer, her twisted soul eager to watch the world burn. “No, Satan will receive me with open arms and make me one of his children. Your brother will make sure of it.”

“My brother, the treacherous liar that tried to kill his own father?”

“He swore—”

Gabriel cannot help but snort, narrowing his eyes at her. “Oh, please! I would have thought you’d be smarter than  _ that _ ! He’s going to kill your mortal ass as soon as he lays his hands on you and you’re going to burn in the pits of Hell for what you’ve done.”

“I’ll make sure that happens sooner than later,” Cas threatens her, raising his hands towards her but once again the smallest of movements from his side has Josie reacting, knowing full well what he’s capable of.

“Easy there, tiger, or I slip the boy’s throat,” she retorts, the blade of the dagger digging into Sam’s throat. It cuts through the surface, barely but enough to draw blood.

Sam hisses in pain through gritted teeth, trying not to give her the pleasure of bringing out any noise out of him, and Dean’s stomach twists at the sigh.

“Cas, stop!” he begs his boyfriend. Castiel stops with his hands mid air, hesitating, but eventually closes his hands into fists and clenches his jaw, staring up at Josie with hate.

With a satisfied grin, Josie teases him, “good boy. Just stand there, watch and wait. The end of times is coming.”

Behind them, on the other side of the door, the creatures from Hell back away to make space for a tall and bony figure whose dark flesh is exposed. The thing seems to come straight from out of a nightmare, with no eyes and long antlers, a mouth that is twisted into something like a grin. An uncomfortable feeling stirs in Dean’s gut just looking at it and he doesn’t want to imagine what that thing is capable of if it is set loose on his world. The creature grabs a club that matches its size and starts banging on the invisible veil. Every time it does, deeper and deeper cracks appear for a few seconds, then disappear again before the monster goes at it again.

“How did you do it?” Gabriel asks Josie. Dean can see him thinking, trying to come up with a way to attack her without hurting Sam and Dean’s not sure whether he wants him to try or not while his brother’s life is on the line. “How did you… orchestrate all of this, with my brother?”

“You’re not the only one with magic mirrors,” she grins with arrogance. “When your father decided to throw Satan’s gift away, when he left his place in the castle for a girl, your brother knew he had to take this place and bring your family back to its old glory. He taught me everything I needed to know, I am his most trusted servant.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes again and groans. “Ugh, don’t tell me you’re in love with him. He’s going to crush your bones, you fool.”

Narrowing her eyes at him, convinced of every word she says to him, she challenges him saying, “we are connected, I have his magic running through my veins, he’s never done that with anyone before. I’ve been waiting all these years to finally free my master and now the time has come. Your mother can’t stop me now.”

“Did she know it was you?” Cas asks, unable to contain his curiosity.

“She did,” Josie replies, then laughs, “she  _ asked _ me to stop, can you believe that? So naive!”

Castiel’s fists tremble with rage. Everything in him wants to lunge at her and rip her apart. “She was kind, she probably wanted to save you from yourself.”

“She was  _ stupid _ . If it wasn’t for the protection spell, I would have taken the key from her. She ran home like a scared little mouse and gave the key to Mary before Lucifer came to get it himself. She closed the door but I waited, I knew one day either of you would be stupid enough to open the door again. You have not failed me and now my mission is almost over. I—”

The sound a gun going off makes the five of them startle and freeze, confused. Two seconds go by and Josie falls backwards, dropping like a dead weight. As she falls, Sam pushes her hand away from him, taking a few steps below the stairs to get out of her reach. Standing a few feet into the corridor are Garth and Charlie, the latter holding a gun, still pointing it in the direction she just shot. Her mouth is hanging open, eyes open as wide as they can go. She’s in shock. More in control of himself, Garth runs to the killer to check on her.

“She’s dead. Charlie, you killed the witch,” he announces, disbelief in his tone but undoubtedly impressed with her.

Charlie makes no sound or movement to prove she’s listening to him. Her hands are shaking.

Dean jumps to his feet and runs to his brother, giving him a big hug and a quick once over to make sure he’s fine before moving on to Charlie.

“I shot someone,” she whispers, tone not betraying any sort of feeling about it at all, just matter-of-factly.

“Hey, sweetheart, how about you give me that gun, okay?” he tells her softly, like he’s dealing with a scared deer. He takes the gun from her slowly, to avoid any accidental discharges. Charlie lets it go willingly. He puts an arm around her and kisses her temple. “You did good, you saved Sam. You’re like—you’re like a proper Women of Letters, huh? Being the hero and all.”

He smiles at her, trying to coax a response from her as he runs his hand up and down her back. Her eyes are locked on the body on the floor though.

“How did you even get in here?” Dean asks her, but the answer comes from Garth, who merely shrugs.

“The door was open.”

Dean blinks in desbelief; it seems that that day, people’s undoing would be simple recklessness.

“Dean,” Cas tells him from the doorway where he stands next to Sam, “she’s in shock. Help her upstairs, she needs to sit down. Sam, Garth, move the body somewhere else, it’s—distasteful. Gabriel and I will try to find another way to… to stop the army.”

Dean can’t help but hesitate as Cas looks at him from across the hallway. There’s suspicion in him, and fear too, and he doesn’t want to leave Cas alone next to the door where he can do something stupid but Charlie is shaking and Sam and Garth are already starting to move the body. 

Sensing his trepidation, Castiel breaks the space between them walking with long steps and puts a hand on his cheek. He takes a short breath in and opens his mouth as if to say something but then goes for a kiss instead. Again, there’s just something wrong about it, it feels like a bitter, hidden goodbye.

As if he’s reading his mind, like he knows Dean knows something’s off, Cas urges him to obey saying, “go, Dean, she needs you.”

Knowing Dean’s not just going to leave Charlie alone, Cas smiles at him one more time, a strained thing that doesn’t look good on him, and goes back to the other room. When he gets to the stairs he sees a great fire on the other side of the door, so intense nothing else can be seen. Cas runs down the steps and stands next to Gabriel, who is but a few inches away from the veil, staring at it with a heavy heart.

“What’s happening?”

Gabriel doesn’t respond, he just gives it a few seconds. When the fire decreases, Cas sees him, Lucifer, his brother, staring right back at them. He smirks with malice and winks before he raises his arms and the fire consumes the doorway again. More cracks appear in the veil, more than ever before. Lucifer’s magic is powerful, to deny it would be foolish. Their father is dying or at least weak enough that sooner rather than later, the protection spell will not be able to fend off the attacks. Both things weigh heavily in their hearts.

When Lucifer steps back, the cracks in the veil don’t go away. They stay there permanently, no longer fixing themselves. Then dozens upon dozens of demons attack the door in unison, black smoke smashing into it with all the intention of finally breaking through the portal.

If Cas were younger, he’d be holding Gabriel’s hand.

In a barely audible voice, Castiel tells his brother what he knows the other is already thinking. “We have to close it.”

“We can’t,” Gabe responds in a defeated whisper. His thoughts are with Kali. He looks over at his brother and swallows hard. “I’m sorry, Cas. I’m afraid we lost.”

“There has to be another way. There’s always a way.”

They stand there, thinking quickly on their feet as Lucifer tries his damn hardest to burn the remains of the powerful spell down, quite literally, while the demons continue their onslaughter. There are dozens of different monsters with him, supporting his cause. Eventually, they  _ will _ break though.

Cas hears footsteps coming from the hallway. Somehow he knows it’s Dean, coming to check if he’s done something they’ll regret. Before Dean gets too close, Cas lifts a hand and forces the door closed. A few seconds later, Dean’s banging on it, demanding to be allowed it.

“Cas! Don’t be stupid, man, come on, let me in! Cas!  _ Cas! _ What are you doing? Open the goddamn door!”

Forcing himself to tune out Dean’s voice, Castiel turns towards Gabriel once again and says, “if we can’t lock the door… maybe we can seal it?”

What feels like a full minute goes by and Gabriel doesn’t say a word. He sighs, running a shaky hand through his hair. He looks at his little brother, then the direction of Dean shouting, then back at his brother.

“I don’t think I’m strong enough for that, Cas,” he admits in a whisper. “That door, its magic… it’s very powerful.”

Gabriel sets his jaw and waits, letting the meaning of his words sink in. He wishes nothing else but to close the door himself instead of Cas, he wishes for his brother to have a long and happy life… but he knows he can’t and he knows they’re running out of time. He knows this is the only way. His eyes are glassy, the weight of the world presses his shoulders down.

Gathering all the bravery left in him, Castiel forces himself to smile gently as him, trying to comfort his brother. 

“I can do it, can’t I?”

Gabriel nods even though he wishes he would just lie to Cas and say no. 

A hand goes to lay over his stomach. The wounds have improved but not enough. He’s still weak. Perhaps if he weren’t, if he were up to full power and in complete control of his abilities, he might be able to live through it but he knows and Gabriel knows that he’s too weak to defy such a powerful spell in his current state. If he closes the door now, it’s going to claim his life. If he doesn’t, Lucifer’s army will claim everyone else’.s

“You don’t have to do this.”

“You know I do.”

It takes all that’s left in Garbeil to stay strong while he pulls Castiel into his arms. Regret consumes him. All he ever wanted was to open that stupid door again but Cas was right all along, they should just have left it alone, they should have moved on.

“I failed you,” he whispers. He shakes with the force of his grief, his impending loss.

“You didn’t. You’re the best brother in the world, Gabe.” Cas pulls away, practically having to rip himself from his brother’s arms. “I’ve known for a while that my end would be bloody… I think Death was trying to warm me. It’s okay though, at least I get to make the choices instead of being someone’s pawn.”

“I wish I could take your place, Cas.”

“No, I’m happy for you. You go back to Hell, go back home. I’m sure Lucifer will let you through, his quarrel isn’t with you.”

Surprisingly Gabriel shakes his head. “No… No, I’m staying here with you till the end.”

“Gabriel—”

“ _ Cas.  _ I make my own choices too, baby bro.”

“Okay, then… thank you.”

The brothers share one last affectionate and painful smile before each of them walks to one side of the door and begins to close it. Castiel’s legs feel like jelly. Behind the veil, he watches Lucifer watch in confusion as they close the heavy, bronze doors. Enraged, he spurts fire in the direction of the door with such strength that it causes a thick crack as tall as the wall to appear. Through it, they can even begin to hear sounds and heat coming from the other side of the door. The spell is nearly depleted of strength. It’s now or never.

Once they’re closed, Gabriel puts a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and squeezes once before taking a few steps back. 

Dean’s voice, his pleads coming through the other side of the door, haunt Castiel.

“Look after him, alright?” Cas asks his brother, who simply nods. Then he turns to Seir, perched in his shoulder. He’s remained quiet all this time, loyal, following Cas no matter what he chooses to do. “You should step back, my friend. You’re free now.”

_ No. I’m with you till the end. Where you go, I go. _

Knowing there’s no convincing his familiar, he nods. It’s extremely selfish but he has to admit there’s something comforting about the idea of Seir following him wherever it is that he’ll end up, even if it’s probably not even true.

Taking a deep breath, Cas shuts everything off—Dean’s voice, his own desires, the pain in his body, the fear gripping his chest—and focuses on nothing but his powers. He plants his hands on the door and closes his eyes, leading all the magic in him, every bit of it, towards the door and the thin crack that must disappear to permanently seal it. He is going to burn it to the ground, seal it shut, even if it causes the light in him to go out.

It hurts. The metal burns hot, his hands are of a matching red. The wounds in his stomach begin to bleed and it gets hard to breathe. Dean bangs on the door even louder, he’s going to knock it down if he has to. Castiel tries harder, before he can be stopped, he gives this one last mission his all and the crack of the door begins to disappear. The room becomes unbearably hot, it's like he’s melting with the metal too. He feels the blood dripping down his front, the wounds reopening and tearing him apart inside out. There are also vibrations coming from behind the door, Lucifer still fighting to break through. He doesn’t relent though, he won’t let his brother win, he won’t let the apocalypse happen. He stays strong, brave and determined until the end, until the heat consumes him and the darkness takes him and he’s far gone, winning this game against the devil in the end, once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duuuuuuun


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't quite know why but this is one of my favourite chapters.  
> Last chapter coming out tomorrow, in Halloween! Very fitting.

Castiel opens his eyes and finds himself right where he did not want to end up; the garden of Eden. It takes him a moment to realize where he is though, for the land looks very different from the last time he visited it. This time, it is alive with all sorts of vegetation and there must be wildlife there as well because he can hear birds singing in the distance. It’s beautiful beyond words, bright with colours he’d never seen before and a peaceful stillness in the air that tells him he’s safe and almost frees his soul from all concerns.

Almost.

He’s alone, utterly alone. He doesn’t need to check to know it’s true, he just somehow knows it. There is not one other soul there with him, no one to talk to, to share his eternity with. This knowledge sends him straight into a panic. Fear renders him speechless, he can’t move. Lightheaded, he sits down and puts his arms around his knees. He tries to think of a way out of this place, he tries to remember everything and anything he’s ever read on the subject or he’s heard Gabriel tell him but his mind is foggy and confused and all he can think about is this cannot be it, this cannot be his ending, it is too cruel a destiny.

What the hell is he even supposed to do for the rest of eternity? What did Adam and Eve do, how did they pass the time? At least they had each other. There’s nothing _to do_ but tend to the garden. Is that why Death brought it back to life, to give him a purpose? That is quite kind of her, he figures, but gardening was never his strong suit, he might just kill everything all over again. And with no library, no books, what is he supposed to even do? Then it occurs to him that he might have to start this place all over, build a new world from scratch like Adam and Eve did with Earth, the angels did with Heaven and Satan did with Hell. If she expects him to do just that she’s once again overestimating him because he wouldn’t even know how to start a fire without his magic, let alone build a house or make weapons or clothes. It’s going to be a long, insufferable existence having to learn how to do everything, with or without magic, as he doesn’t know the proper spells for the things he’d have to do. And all for what? Why even bother, if no one else is ever going to end up in here with him? Perhaps in another millennia another witch will have a child with a mortal, or maybe not, the possibilities are not high at all.

Maybe, eventually, he could find a way out of this place. Earth, Hell and Heaven all have doors leading from one to the other, it’s not crazy to assume Eden does too. If Satan was able to come in, burn it all to the ground and move on to Hell, it means there’s got to be a way out. But who knows how long it could take him to figure out the right way to freedom... The doors sometimes aren’t _physical_ passages but rituals one needs to undertake. He’d have to create spells and guess and try an unknown amount of times before succeeding… _if_ that even happens! There’s no guarantee that it will, no promise that he’ll ever get to leave. And even if he does, if he takes too long all his loved ones might be dead by then. He’s got no idea how time in Eden compares to Hell or Earth. Perhaps by the time he manages to break free, Dean, his brother, his friends, Seir, maybe even his father, will all be long dead.

And then, as he falls deeper and deeper into a rabbit hole of questions without satisfying answers, he sees it. _Her_. The dark shape of Death’s silhouette, the long cloak floating after her. She’s not carrying her scythe this time; she doesn’t need to, her work has been done, his life is already over. 

He doesn’t recoil or try to escape, he merely waits for her to reach him. What would be the point of running anyway? He’s already dead and she’s got all of eternity to chase after him, it is only a matter of time until she catches up with him. 

Maybe she will be his companion in the garden. Would that be possible? Does Death have enough time to spend with him, just to spare him from eternal loneliness? Or maybe she’s lonely too; even if she’s got all the reapers under her command they’re not truly her friends, are they? The idea of being stuck in the garden with Death does not appease him though. Surely Death must be an interesting person to talk to, there’s so much he could learn from her, so many stories she knows that most must have forgotten about. But even if they could eventually form a bond, his heart would forever long for more. He will forever mourn the loss of his loved ones who will move on with their lives and then spend their eternal rest elsewhere, away from him. In his mind, the garden is nothing but a prison and Castiel starts to wonder if he could bargain for something else, for a true death. He rather just go to sleep and have his mind be dissolved into peaceful nothingness than spend forever practically alone in this forsaken place.

When Death is but inches away from him, she extends her hand towards him. He stares at the bony fingers that might just turn into dust and fade away if he touches them. He realizes it might insult her but he cannot bring himself to take her hand, somewhat put off but the skeleton-like hand.

Understanding this shape might not be the best one to deal with the half witch, Death changes into her second best preferred form, that of a dark-skinned woman with short curly hair. Her clothes are dark as well, her cloak changes to a long back leather coat which seems kind of ridiculous to Castiel in the spring-like weather of the garden but he makes no comments about it, he just watches her transformation in awe.

“I thought a child of the night would not be put off by my true form,” Death says, not taunting him but thoughtful, “but then again you’re also a child of the light.”

Trying his best to gather himself, Cas clears his throat and says, “you have to know you’re intimidating, no matter to whom you present yourself to. You are Death, after all.”

“Billie,” Death says, “you can call me Billie.”

Cas can’t help but frown, momentarily distracted by the turmoil inside of him. “You have a name?”

“Don’t we all?”

“But who gave it to you?”

Billie blinks and stares ahead into the distance, lost in thought. After a moment, she admits, “huh… I can’t remember anymore…”

The half witch doesn’t know what to make of that. He wonders, in despair, if she is a reflection of his own destiny; being alone for so long that he cannot remember the beginning of his existence at all anymore, who gave him his name, who loved him, who must be mourning him right now. He cannot decide which is worse, to miss his loved ones forever, to long for Dean’s touch and his brother’s terrible jokes until it drives him mad, or to forget them all together until he feels nothing at all. He’s really not willing to go through with either choice.

“Death—”

“Billie.”

“Fine, _Billie_ … I was wondering, if it isn’t too much to ask, if there’s somewhere else you could send me? Somewhere… I don’t know... _Nowhere_ , I suppose. Is it a way to just… end it? My life, I mean. To just… _not_ be?”

“You don’t like the garden?” she asks, throwing her arms out lazily. By the tone of her voice, she seems to be only interested in his opinion, she doesn’t sound argumentative which sparks hope in Castiel, hope that he will be allowed to rest peacefully after all...

And that thought scares him too because then it means he perhaps has only but a few more moments to think of Dean, of every single perfect kiss they shared; of his friends and the amazing memories they shared together; of all the ways Gabriel proved to be the best brother there ever lived; of Seir, who spent every single day of Castiel’s life watching over him… His heart aches to see them all one more time but he doesn’t regret his choices at all. He dies but they get to live, it’s a fair bargain and a good reason to go.

“It looks better than the last time,” he admits with a shrug.

“I thought you’d appreciate that, it makes the place look more… welcoming.”

“I do. No offence but I still would hate to have to exist in this realm forever, by myself.”

“I was sure that’s what you’d say,” she states solemnly with a knowing smile. “Lucky for you, you have choices.”

“What?”

Castiel scrambles to his feet, heart raising as if he were truly alive. Whatever choices she offers, it cannot be worse than being alone in Eden until the end of times, if there even is such a thing.

Death takes a deep breath and crosses her arms over her chest, readying herself to get down to business. “Your situation is unique. You are special, Castiel.”

He sighs, not at all pleased to hear those words yet again. “I’m getting quite tired of it, to be honest.”

A smile pulls at the corner of her lips. She bows her head and in a lower tone says, “I agree. I do not appreciate deviations from the natural order. I think it’s time to set things right.”

“What do you mean?”

“A half witch, half mortal, you don’t belong in Heaven, Hell or Earth. You don’t really belong here in Eden either, it was not meant for you when it was created, but since no one else is in here anymore, it seemed fitting that you should end up where nobody else does.”

Once again Castiel’s stomach twists unpleasantly at the thought of being trapped in there alone. “But you said I have options,” he points out in a hurry, gesturing with his hands to move things along to the part he wants to hear.

Billie, who is as old as time, glances at his hands with a slightly annoyed expression in her face, like she doesn’t appreciate the boy hurrying her. She takes a deep breath, as if to force herself to be patient and compassionate with him, and Cas shifts in place nervously, hoping his eagerness doesn't land him in her bad side when he needs her help the most.

“The way you died is the way I hoped you would because it gives me options without having to bend the rules for you or interfere without true justification,” she explains, a pleased smile pulling at the corner of her lips. “When you closed the door, you activated the punishment curse from the deal your ancestors made. There’s a high price you have to pay for your actions.”

“My life,” he automatically thinks out loud. “I died.”

“Yes, because that is what the spell usually goes for. There are few things in life more valuable than a soul… _but_ let us not forget you are _special_ and for once it may play in your favour.”

It takes everything in him to remain silent and still, to be patient and not interrupt her. Nervously he fidgets with the hem of his shirt, twisting it over and over again in his fingers like she’s not going to notice if he channels his anxiety like that.

“Your mother made a spell when you were born, she named you after an angel which means Heaven has a claim on your soul. Despite the darkness in you, because your sacrifice was selfless and you’ve already been promised to Heaven, if you pay with your life I will hand you over to the angel Castiel, who will lead you through the gates of Heaven where you shall rest in peace. There you will be joined by your loved ones, eventually, when their time comes. I assure you you will feel no pain, no longing while you wait for them. You will live in constant bliss, reliving the best moments of your life.”

Billie pauses momentarily to give Castiel time to process what she’s saying and consider the first option. Heaven doesn’t sound bad at all, in fact he should consider himself lucky at all to be welcomed up there, especially after the things he’s done.

“I have to warn you though,” she tells him, narrowing his eyes at him and changing her tone into something more stern, “that if you so much as _try_ to leave Heaven, I will fetch you myself and I will throw you back in here where you’ll spend the rest of your days alone. Understood?”

Cas simply nods like a child who is being scolded.

“Would my mom be there?” he can’t help but ask, tempted by the idea of joining his mother in the afterlife. Up there with her in peace, waiting for his friends and Dean to eventually join him should be easier. He cannot help but think of Gabriel though; sure, Cas will see him in his memories but his brother won’t be able to go to Heaven with him.

However, Death shakes her head in response to his question. “No, Castiel. Your mother is not dead, she’s trapped.”

Castiel nods and sighs, although he’s not really disappointed. He was quite sure that was the case to begin with but it didn’t hurt asking for confirmation.

“What’s the other option?”

“If you instead decide to give up the light of your soul, it’ll be powerful enough a sacrifice to appease the loss you need to experience while still leaving enough of you to send the dark side of your soul to Hell. Once you’re there, as long as the door bounding your family is closed, you will not be able to return to Earth. And of course you will have to face the troubles you left behind there, the war, but your family, eternity, immense power and surely greatness await you there. You’d finally be a true witch.”

It’s tempting, he has to admit. Despite the fact that he would be going back to the chaos that was his family’s land when he left, he could help them regain control, he could make sure his father lived and that Lucifer was punished. Maybe he could even rise against the devil himself and overtake him, a twisted version of the destiny Satan had planned for him. It would certainly be very satisfying to get his revenge on his brother, who has caused so many, including Castiel, so much pain.

“Would it hurt, separating my light and darkness?” 

Death nods completely honestly, not bothering to sugarcoat it for him. “Because your light has already been promised to Heaven, I’d have to rip it out of you. To be clear, you wouldn’t have a soul anymore.”

“And what would it be like? What would _I_ be like without my soul?”

“I cannot say how it will change you for I have never seen it happen. And even if I had, I wouldn't tell you, I don’t meddle with the future, I won’t influence your decision… All I can say is I am sure it will have a significant impact on you. The light is a strong part of you, more dominant than the darkness.”

Castiel swallows hard, fearful of the implicit meaning in her words. If she takes away the light in his soul, he won’t be himself anymore, the darkness will take over and he has to wonder, to _decide_ , if it’ll be worth living that life when he won’t be essentially himself anymore. What if he turns into a monster, into what Satan had intended him to be? When he befriended Dean and made a choice to be good, the nightmares about the apocalypse stopped but he fears that without his moral compass, the devil will finally get what he wanted out of Castiel. What if he hurts people? Could he find a way to fight that side of him, even with the light gone? His entire family belongs to the dark and they’re not _entirely_ bad, they’re capable of kindness as well…

He wants to live, that is the truth. He chose to die because there was no other choice, he wasn’t going to let anyone else close that door, but he wanted nothing but to keep living, to see his visions of the future come true and grow old next to Dean, to go university and have children and simply live his life. He wants more. Heaven is a resting place from where people don’t usually come back from, but going to Hell would allow him to live. He’s torn though, because perhaps it is better to call it quits, accept his fate and die in case choosing Hell means turning into something he doesn’t want to be. He died a hero, he doesn’t want to come back to life only to risk becoming a villain.

“Is my father alive? Can you tell me that at least? Please?” he asks, looking at Billie with the sad look of a beggar. Maybe with his father by his side, he can show his son the way to be good even with nothing but darkness inside of him, maybe he can tame the power hungry side of Castiel’s magic.

Death presses her lips into a thin line and considers his question for a moment, deciding whether she should or should not tell him, if the knowledge would influence his decision too much. Eventually, she takes pity on him and tells him the truth... or at least some mysterious version of it.. 

“Your father is very weak at the moment but is also a very powerful witch. He will recover, eventually, if his allies play their cards right.”

Castiel’s not entirely sure what to make of it. At least he is partly relieved to hear his father is still alive. Leave it to stubborn Charles Novak not to die…

A part of Cas is tempted to go to Hell and be reunited with his father. The short-lived reunion did nothing but make him want to spend more time with his family. He’s not naive, he knows his father had done terrible things back in the day before he became more tamed and pacific. Castiel doesn’t put him on a pedestal, he knows Charles has done unforgivable things in the past, but if he is capable of selfless acts of kindness, Cas hopes that he too can become that, even with the light in his soul gone. He hopes his father can show him how…

The only problem is that if Charles was capable of hurting people with his magic before he learned how to control that bloodthirsty seed that the devil plants in all of them, so there’s no telling what Castiel, who is way more powerful, might do. The sky's the limit for him. Actually, there might be no limit at all. The thought of harming any living creature, even from Hell, or putting in motion schemes to hurt people on Earth, scare him enough to hesitate and reconsider an eternal life of grandeur. Whatever mistakes he makes—and it would be absurdly naive to think he won’t make any— they’ll haunt him forever. How long will it take him to gain control of himself and reach that calm state his father now lives in? Who many will he hurt before then? He would rather go to Heaven than risk hurting people for who knows how long.

“You have one more option,” Billie notes, catching Castiel by surprise. He raises his eyebrows, genuinely shocked, ears perking up. She huffs a laugh knowingly and says, “your last option would be to give up your magic. It is powerful beyond what human words can describe; so powerful, in fact, that it can be compared to a soul. Give it up instead of your life and you will be able to return to Earth as a mortal. No more half witch, no more wild adventures, no more grand destiny.”

“But I can go home?” he asks incredulously, lifting an eyebrow with an unshakeable sense of suspicion. Billie simply nods patiently, once again allowing him time to process the information and weigh his options.

Of course giving up his magic is a very high price to pay, he cannot imagine his life without it but then again he has seen bits of it, in his visions, and he can’t help but wonder now if Death had something to do with it, if she knew it would all turn out this way in the end. What he saw was good, he saw himself happy and fulfilled despite the lack of magical powers. It would take some adjustment and probably a lot of pain. His magic always felt like a friend, like an entity on its own sharing a body with Cas, sometimes having a mind of its own and acting like a version of his subconscious. It protected him, it made him brave and it was there for him when he needed help. Castiel feels stupid, maybe even a little childish, for being afraid of what it’ll be like to live without it given that all his friends are doing just fine without magical powers, but it’s been there his entire life and it just feels like he’s getting a limb cut off of him.

On the other hand, his bond with Seir would be severed. The mere thought brings tears to his eyes but, after all, they are already separated. If Cas chooses Hell over Earth or Heaven, Seir would still be bound to him and therefore trapped on Earth with the door to Hell now sealed off. As an indirect part of the Novak clan, he would not be able to enter Hell through any other portal. However, if their bond breaks, he would no longer belong to Castiel and he would be free to either stay on Earth or go back home, to Hell, to Purson, his first master. It is the kindest option for his friend, however terribly sad it would be for both of them. If Seir stays on Earth, now living without Castiel’s energy to feed from, he will regress more and more into his animal form until the demon fades and all that’s left is the crow, which will eventually die as all things must. Cas doesn’t even want to imagine that, he cannot cope with it. 

Another thing he stops to consider is that, with his magic gone, the possibility of freeing his mother from the curse that afflicts her becomes slimmer and slimmer. Even if they found a way to break the curse, it would probably require a great deal of magic and Castiel cannot help but worry Gabriel’s might not be enough, however skilful his brother is.

In the end, he would be losing so much more than just his magic but then again breaking the peace treaty was always meant to have severe consequences, he knew that. When he closed the doors he did not have time to stop and mourn what he’d lose, there was only an urgent need to protect his loved ones and stop anyone else from taking his place, but now he has to make a choice his heart breaks as he accepts what he’ll be giving up. With tears in his eyes, he sets his jaw tightly and averts his eyes, not wanting Death to see him cry. He knows what he’s going to choose but it doesn’t make it any easier.

Without having to ask, Billie knows what he’ll choose as well. Despite her rather stoic face and her resolution to remain objective and indifferent, there is a hint of compassion in her eyes. If his choice pleases her, Billie makes no comments about it. He thinks it does though, he is sure this is what she wanted all along; with his magic gone, with Cas being anything but extraordinary, there are no more threats to the balance of the world. Things would go back to normal which is just the way Death likes it.

Billie extends her hand in his direction as Castiel wipes his tears with the back of his hand, ready and all too happy to get this all over with and put it in the past, to go back to the natural order of things.

“Shall we?”

He sniffles and nods before taking her hand. He braces himself, unsure of what to expect. He regrets not asking if it’ll hurt, not because it’ll make a difference in his decision but because he would simply like to know to prepare himself for it. Castiel flinches instinctively, waiting for a terrible pain to strike him, to feel the magic being ripped away from the very core of his soul. He thinks he hears Death huffing a laugh at his overreaction and then everything goes dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I woke up this morning and I legit was like: wait what if I make Cas choose Hell cause he thinks he'll be powerful enough to get all he wants in the end? And I had to talk myself out of it cause that'd be another whole story and I'd hate to keep you waiting (also I really like the ending I already wrote), BUT I WAS SO TEMPTED! I LOVE THE IDEA! Cas, King of Hell, would burst through the door 20 years later and Dean would be like 'WE GOTTA KILL IT, HE EVIL' and Sam would be like 'You gotta learn to be good again, Dean still loves you!' AND DRAMA. Can you imagine????? Ugh. Someone write this for me hahahahaha


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, we're at the end!  
> <3

**PART 3: EPILOGUE: A DIFFERENT PATH**

Castiel is tired, oh so tired, even though he’s been sleeping for the better part of two days. He’s cold, then he’s hot, cold, hot, cold, hot. Who would have thought his magic used to keep him warmer which was one of the reasons why he didn’t get sick during the coldest of winters? He didn't even know he was doing that before. This sucks. The roller coaster of temperature in his body sucks. Getting the flu? A bloody _nightmare_ , such an annoying part of being a human.

Dean tries not to laugh but watching Cas pout and cross his arms angrily in bed because he got the flu, he cannot help himself. Even though he presses his lips into a thin line, the corner of his lips twist downwards with the effort to contain laughter. Cas glares at him and Dean averts his eyes, trying to look innocent and focusing on the wet towel in his hands. He twists it, taking the excess water off it which lands noisily in the bucket below, folds it carefully and sets it in Castiel’s forehead. The cold fabric feels simultaneously glorious and awful against his heated skin.

“The fever is coming down. How do you feel?”

“I’m dying,” Castiel mutters between gritted teeth rather dramatically. Seir, who was snuggling against his neck, presses his head against the mortal’s cheek as if to comfort him. Castiel cannot hear him anymore but he doesn’t need to; their bond is gone yet the affection and loyalty between them remains. Seir follows Cas around everywhere and he will continue to do so until his dying day.

Dean has to cough hide his laughter. Clearing his throat, he says, “Cas, it’s just a cold.”

Getting sick is one of the many new things Castiel has to get used to as a mortal. He was grateful to find the changing seasons didn’t trigger any allergies on him like they do with Charlie, but during his first winter as a mortal he finds himself succumbing to the cold weather. They had moved for his studies, Dean followed him as he didn’t really care where he studied to be a firefighter whereas Cas was pursuing a very specific degree. It had probably not been a good idea to move to a place where the winters were much harsher than what he was used to even when he was a half-witch but he didn’t really have another choice.

The worst thing about getting sick is not the pain in his muscles, the ache in his joints, the fever or the constant change of being cold and then sweaty as his temperature fluctuates. The worst part is how _inconvenient_ it all is. He had to go and get sick during their holidays? That is just mean, why is faith dealing him such a poor hand of cards?

The boys had driven all the way back to their hometown for the Christmas break because Dean didn’t have the money or the desire to get on a plane. In the way, Cas started feeling off; he had a light headache, a runny nose and an irritating itching sensation in the back of his throat that he could just not shake off. By the time they made it to the Novaks’, his fever had completely broken out. He was pissed off that he was reduced to a ball of suffering and sweat in his childhood bed instead of enjoying the holidays and hanging out with his friends at the Christmas market. In Dean’s opinion, he is making it out to be worse than it actually is but he stopped giving his opinion when he said Castiel’s fever wasn’t even that high because the look of utter annoyance in his boyfriend’s face was truly something to behold. Instead, Dean is going what Castiel needs him to do; just pamper him and go along with the newly human’s constant complaints.

Narrowing his eyes in Dean’s direction, Cas says, between coughs, “people used to die of a cold.”

“ _Used to_ being the key words, sweetheart. I think you’re getting better, you should be good to go for the Christmas dinner.”

Castiel sighs dramatically and shoves the covers away from him; his fever is indeed going down, if the absolutely soaked shirt he’s got on is anything to go by. 

“I’d _better_ not miss that dinner!” he threatens no one in particular.

Garth had announced the list of desserts his parents would be making and Castiel would rather risk dying and making everyone sick than miss it. It is bad enough that he is missing out on spending time with his friends already, although they had been kind enough to pay him short visits here and there when the fever relented and allowed him to be awake without wanting to jump off a window to just end his suffering already.

“Growing old with you is going to be fun,” Dean jokes, smirking in a teasing way, trying to lighten up Castiel’s sulky mood. “Can you imagine how much bitching I’m gonna have to put up with when we’re like 80 and old and everything hurts, if you can’t cope with a simple cold?”

“Oh, I plan to die young, Dean, I cannot take this anymore,” Castiel states matter of factly, face dead serious. Dean snorts and squeezes his hand.

“You’re kind of cute when you complain. You’re like an angry puppy.”

“Have more respect, I used to be the devil’s chosen one.”

“Yeah, well, you’re just a grump now. Another poor bastard trying to make it through college without knowing how to feed themselves after leaving the nest.” 

“Hey, I know how to cook.”

“With _magic_ , which you don’t have anymore. If it weren’t for me you’d starve.”

Narrowing his eyes at his soulmate, trying to make Dean pity him and give him all the affection he craves while sick, he mutters, “and if it weren’t for me the world would have ended so I think I’m entitled.”

Dean chuckles. In all honesty he doesn’t mind cooking for his boyfriend, he kind of likes the domesticity of it all, having someone to take care of. The good thing is now he does it out of love, not out of need or pressure or obligation, not because a sad fate forces him to. 

He moves from the chair to the edge of the bed, patting Castiel’s thigh for him to move.. “Scoot over, man.”

Castiel shuffles to the side, making space for Dean, but not without moaning like he’s making such a terrible effort by moving a few inches. Dean tries _really_ hard not to laugh. Cas is being _such_ a drama queen and Dean is here for it. When the time comes and Castiel gets used to being sick (if he ever does), he’s never going to let go of how much he exaggerated during his first time.

“I should have chosen Heaven, this is unbearable,” Castiel mutters to himself. The towel in his forehead slides down over his eyes. He lets out an annoyed grunt from the back of his throat, like it’s such a bother, and puts it back in place.

Dean shifts to his side, holding his head in one hand. He smiles broadly, finding the whole situation terribly amusing. Castiel glares at him from the corner of his eyes but _damn_ Dean looks handsome as Hell, he cannot be mad at him. And he is there all the time, looking after Cas, putting up with his endless rants without a single complaint of his own. He changes the towel on Castiel’s forehead now and then, he cooks his favourite soup and reads him books when Cas is bored because it hurts him to have his own eyes open. Dean checks his temperature and reminds him to take his medicine on time. He’s patient and loving and Castiel’s chest burst with love for him.

“Oh, come on, it’s not all bad, is it?” Dean tells him, lowering his voice into something more intimate as he leans closer to have his lips barely brushing Castiel’s. Blindly Dean finds Castiel’s hand and they intertwine their fingers while Dean nudges his nose with his own in a sweet gesture.

Cas can’t help himself, his eyes close almost by instinct and he stretches his neck to kiss Dean. He has to admit he likes the attention, he likes the way Dean cares for him, even if Dean teases him endlessly and sometimes he’s too loud when Castiel’s fever makes him feel like the slightest noise equals a drum set in his ear. He’s attentive and he revels in the role of caretaker too. All the displays of affection make Castiel feel like a king, like the luckiest man in the world. Dean is a treasure, the best person Cas knows.

“No, it’s not all bad,” Castiel whispers, finally softening, against Dean’s lips.

Thankfully, Cas is in good enough conditions to attend the Christmas dinner. He takes a good dose of the potion Gabriel had been feeding him to get better faster, to try and get his headache to relent a bit more, and then the brothers are on their way to the Fitzgeralds’. There they celebrate with the Winchesters, Kali, Castiel’s grandfather and also Charlie and her mom. Neither Gabriel nor Kali usually celebrate Christmas, but Cas insisted to have them over and Garth’s mom wouldn’t take no for an answer either. Dean and Charlie are both glad to see their parents going steady, finally moving on with their lives and taking a chance at love again. Cas is surprised by how well adjusted Gabriel seems, how he embraces the normalcy of the holiday and actually acts quite smitten towards Kali. He always knew his brother really cared about her but he never really openly showed it much. Kali, who is quite reserved herself when it comes to feelings, seems to revel in his affections as well.

 _Good for them,_ Cas thinks with a smile.

The odd combination of people doesn’t stop dinner from being a rather pleasant event. There’s food, _so much_ food they cannot see the tablecloth underneath the many plates holding the dozens of different dishes that have been prepared. Every family brought something and everything looks amazing, from the potato salad that Dean made, to Mrs Bradbury’s mini quiches and the mind-blowing roasted chicken Gabriel spent all day cooking… Okay, maybe he used magic for the most part but he oversaw the whole thing. Then there are more desserts than they’ll be able to eat, all courtesy of Garth’s parents, piled up in the kitchen just waiting to be devoured. Nobody drinks that night, in support of John, who has so far been sober for a little over a year. Castiel sits closer to Kali and tries to get to know her better since things between her and Gabriel seem to be going _really_ serious lately while Dean sits next to Sam, chatting with his brother nonstop as if they didn’t constantly talk on the phone...

The distance is hard on Dean, even if he has Castiel by his side who also understands the anxiety of being separated from his family for the first time. He cannot help but worry, constantly, about everything. Will John remember to make lunch for Sam and what the kid likes or doesn’t like? Are they doing laundry on time to make sure Sammy has clean clothes for school? They used to forget so often before, Dean always ended up doing it last minute on Sundays. Will John crumble under pressure of having to take care for Sam all by himself? Will Sam go through that phase that every kid has during their teenage years where one acts like a little shit and causes trouble, trouble that John may not know how to handle? Are they fighting? Would they tell Dean if they did or would they keep it from him so he won’t worry? They say they’re doing just fine but _are they?_ Dean just keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to go wrong. And that’s just normal people's concerns, on top of that he worries that Sam might be spending too much time in the bunker without Dean there to supervise him and drag him out into the daylight. Sam is, no doubt, still very much interested in learning more about their family’s legacy and all the incredible things in the Men of Letters’s library, so from the distance Dean tries to make sure, without sounding bossy, that his brother pays enough attention to his _normal_ life, that he doesn’t get lost in an endless rabbit hole of research down in the bunker. Thankfully, that’s where Eileen comes into the equation; apparently, Sam finally got the nerve to ask her out and it went very well, so a second date is bound to happen anytime soon. Dean counts on it, on Sammy having a very good reason to be more interested in the outside world rather than spending all his free time underground, reading old books. He worries and worries but nothing goes wrong, at least not so far, and John and Sam keep telling him to stop harassing them and give them some credit, they’ve been doing pretty well.

After dinner, the gang picks up Benny at his place and they head back to the Novaks’ to hang out. Gabriel spends the night at Kali’s, leaving the house for them. They take the leftover desserts from Garth’s, which are still _a lot_ (for which Benny is immensely relieved, he was afraid he wouldn’t get to eat any), and make themselves cozy in the living room. Dean lights a fire and puts extra blankets around Castiel, just in case; Cas has turned out to be one of those people who really, _really_ bundle up in winter. Being cold in the slightest sets him off and while Dean doesn’t mind his complaints, most people want to murder him, especially those who don’t know all of these human feelings are new to him because he used to be a witch. It isn’t exactly something he can openly talk about, so if people used to think he was odd before it’s nothing compared to what they think now.

However, Castiel is finally in a jolly mood. He’s content in his friends’ presence, he’s warm and his stomach is full. Dean keeps an arm around his shoulders at all times, sometimes playing with Castiel’s hair absentmindedly which Cas likes very much. Dean’s close to him, touching him constantly, like he can’t keep his hands off of Castiel which his soulmate loves.

Being back with his friends feels special. Cas had missed them dearly; contrary to Dean, making friends was never his strong suit and it’s harder and slower for him to adapt to a new place while Dean, what with his charming personality and easy smiles, made friends within the first two weeks. So being back home is more than just sleeping under the same roof he grew up in; it’s listening to Charlie talk about LARPing and bragging about being Queen, and Garth’s goofy but sweet laughter and Benny and Dean being completely in tune together, making jokes non stop. Every time he’s with them, there’s no doubt in his mind that he made the right call giving up his magic to return to them.

Charlie updates Garth and Benny on Gilda—since she and Cas are studying in the same place, him and Dean are already up to speed. Gilda’s going to therapy to cope with the events of earlier that year; she seems to be doing fine, although she can’t really tell her psychologist _everything_ that happened because they would lock her up somewhere (obviously Charlie had to explain to her everything that had happened, why the killer’s attack were unable to actually harm her even though it was scary as Hell anyway). Since she’s getting better they try to convince Dean to seek help too; he also has traumatic memories he’s having a hard time moving past from, like the people he will always feel guilty of not having saved. Sometimes he thinks it’s getting easier, other days it hits him hard and there’s nothing Cas can say so many him feel better. Cas thinks he’s slowly relenting, eyeing with interest the card Gilda left for him at home with the counsellor’s office number. 

At least they brought justice and closure to their town and that is not a small victory in Dean’s opinion, that sometimes gets him through the night. Some families get some answers after years of wondering what the hell happened to their loved ones and the entire town can live their lives without being in constant fear, wondering who’s going to be next. When the need to dispose of Josie’s body arose, Dean saw it as an opportunity to do something more with it. If she’s guilty, why not let people know it with a contained lie? Dean used his contacts in the Men of Letters to pass as FBI agents who help them wrap up the whole killer story and, amazingly, it worked. The guys are professional liars, something Dean respects. As far as the public knows, Josie was a serial killer and guilty for a lot of murders and disappearances, until she tried to attack Garth in the back alley of the library and Dean stopped her—yeah, they preferred to leave Charlie out of it, she’d had enough. Dean got in a bit of trouble for possession of an illegal weapon but he stopped a serial killer so everyone went easy on him (for the first time in his life). In Hell justice was done too. Well, more like revenge; Michael came down hard on Lucifer with Purson's army and killed him without hesitation for trying to kill their father, even though he pulled through in the end, after a lot of healing magic was performed in him.

With enough excitement to last a lifetime, Charlie is now ready to live a normal life, LARPing being the closest thing she wants to get to magic ever again. She could not be happier about starting college and being absolutely ordinary. She appreciates the little things now, like being able to go to be in peace at 10.30 pm without having to wake up at 3 am to raise the dead or catch a killer. Garth is taking some time off to travel the country and meet other packs of werewolves, explore that side of himself outside of the comfort and security of his home. He doesn’t want that to be his whole personality, he plans to lead a normal life, but he wants to get to know that side of him better. Benny, on the other hand, is having doubts about the career choices he made and is actually considering dropping out of school and joining Dean in his quest to become a firefighter. Dean is delighted and fills Benny in on all the information he would need to join the program Dean’s in, trying his best to convince his friend to move to where they live. It looks like he’s succeeding. Next on the list is Garth...

They eat and talk and laugh until they’re too tired to keep their eyes open and they fall asleep in the living room, making beds out of covers on the floor. Dean says sleepovers are for girls, Charlie tells him to just go to bed and stop being such a dude. The next day, around noon Dean drives his friends home while Cas stays to rest. Cas likes being in the house by himself and having some time to think although it feels… _different_. His connection to it has certainly somehow changed, he’s not in tune with it anymore but the house still recognizes him as one of its masters. It’s strange though not to be able to fill the buzz of its magic, the way it seemed to be alive on its own. In a way, it makes Castiel feel sad and more lonely, but it’s still his home and nobody can take that away from him. It’s also nice to have some one on one time to spend with his grandmother who has always rather liked Christmas and is a bit blue that she cannot celebrate it anymore.

When Dean returns with Gabriel, Castiel can tell right away that there’s something off about them. Gabe seems nervous and hesitant while Dean is quiet, like he knows something and he’s eager to get it out in the open because keeping things from Cas makes him anxious. When the witch asks if they can talk, Cas gets seriously uneasy and braces himself for bad news.

As they sit down on the living room, Seir perched in Castiel’s shoulder, Cas notices Gabriel is holding a book. It takes him a second to recognise it; it’s the same book Garth found in the bunker, the one they used to cast the spell to protect the people of their town.

“Cas… I wanted to give you your Christmas present. I’ve had it for a while but I wanted to talk to you about it face to face and I wanted to let you have your Christmas dinner in peace.”

The tone of Gabriel’s voice doesn’t do anything to ease Castiel’s anxiety; if anything, it makes it worse. There’s something carefully controlled about it, like he’s actually emotional but doing his best not to show it at all. 

“We don’t do Christmas presents,” Castiel blurts out as if he could avoid this situation by pointing out this silly fact.

“There’s always a first time for everything,” Gabriel responds with a small smile.

Castiel swallows hard, glancing in Dean’s direction for reassurance. Dean takes his hands and squeezes it, but stays out of it, for now.

“What is it?” Cas asks his brother. “The book?”

“Closure, Cas. I wanna give you closure. Ever since you two left, Sam and I have continued doing research in the bunker to find a way to save your mother. Being trapped in stone, alone out there, forever… she deserves better. Recently I found this book again. I don’t know why I didn’t check it before, I guess it never occurred to me to check spells that require benevolent sacrifices… it’s not my usual gig.”

Castiel’s heart skips a bit and his grip in Dean’s hand tightens. When he speaks again, his voice is barely audible and all but steady. “You… you found a way to save her?”

Gabriel hesitates for a second and then clarifies, “I found a way to free her.”

A shaky breath and a hollow sound in the back of his throat come out without permission and that’s all Castiel manages to do. His mind is blank. This is the moment he had been waiting for all his life and instead of jumping to his feet and screaming victorious and celebrating, he finds himself frozen with emotions, overwhelmed.

“Cas, I can’t bring her back but I can free her. I can put her to rest,” Gabriel explains. Castiel frowns in confusion and his brother smiles at him sympathetically, a guilty expression in his face. “I am sorry, Cas. I wanted nothing but to bring your mother back but after all this time… I think this is the best I can offer the both of you.”

Gabe gives him a moment to take it all in, to say something, but when Cas remains silent he continues.

“I found a spell… It can break a love curse if a love sacrifice is made. The type of deal she made, it fits a love curse. And I… I am willing to make a sacrifice, out of love for the both of you.”

The thought of losing his brother causes an immediate visceral reaction in Cas. His heart jolts, stomach sinks, muscles clench. “No!” he exclaims, snapping at Gabriel angrily for even considering that. “No, absolutely not!”

Gabe holds his hands up to calm him down and raises his voice to talk over him. “Cas, brother, I wouldn't sacrifice my life. I would just give up my magic.”

Castiel’s frown only deepens. For a second there, he’s speechless.

“ _What?_ ”

He blinks and for some reason looks over at Dean, as if he held all the answers. Dean just shrugs, patiently waiting for the brothers to have this discussion in which he doesn’t get to have a say, he’s obviously just there to support Cas… and even Gabriel, who confided in him on the way home to ask for his opinion.

“What are you talking about?” Cas asks. “Giving up your magic? Your magic is _everything_ to you. You can’t do that, Gabe.”

“Yeah, well..” Gabriel takes a deep breath and shrugs. It’s clear in his eyes that it’s not a sacrifice that he takes lightly, that he’s somewhat even scared but then he goes on to say, “maybe it doesn’t have to be. I spent so long trying to go back to Hell, to the life I always knew… but when it came down to it, when I had to choose Earth or Hell… I don’t know, something in me chose this.”

When Castiel looks at Gabe like he’s about to cry, his brother huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes, trying to make light of the situation.

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself too much, Cas,” he jokes. “It’s not just about you. Look, raising you was… challenging, for sure.” Gabriel snorts and smirks for a second, displaying that characteristic cheekiness of his as he remembers something, but then his expression softens once more. “But I liked it, man. I’m going to admit it, I had a good time. It gave me a sense of purpose like I hadn’t felt in a long, _long_ time. Life was more than just about me. With the door to Hell sealed, I’m never going to get my old life back. It’s time that I… _move on_. And Kali, she can give me that, a good reason to actually live my life instead of just being stagnant here, hoping to get back what I lost. I love her. I know I didn’t always make it seem like I was serious about her but I am. And we’ve been talking about moving in together and, you know, starting our own family. Kali wants more and I want to give it to her. And I want it too.”

Castiel’s lips part in surprise, eyebrows shooting up. Gabriel rolls his eyes again, almost as if pretending to be offended that it’s such a revelation that he’s interested in being a father himself, but shifts uncomfortably where he’s sitting showing that he actually _does_ care. Cas knows his brother will never admit it but Gabriel cares about Castiel’s opinion. It’s not that Cas didn’t think he’d make a good father; sure, Gabe has a bit of a chaotic energy about him that is not usually a role model for parents, but he did good by his little brother, he took care of him and managed to raise him right… The thing is, Castiel always assumed Gabe did it because he had to, because he couldn’t just leave the orphan kid alone. It never occurred to him Gabriel actually _enjoyed_ it.

Without waiting for his brother to react and voice his thoughts, Gabe continues to explain his thought process. “But I can’t do that—have my own kid I mean, not as long as I am a witch, without getting ourselves back into the half-witch, half-mortal, grand destiny situation. So this, giving up my magic to free your mom’s soul from the curse, it works for everybody. The way the spell works, it would allow her to break free from her stone prison and ascend to Heaven. I know it’s not what you want and I am so sorry to let you down, but at least she’d finally be in peace and one day, when you die, you’ll be able to reunite with her in Heaven.”

Too overwhelmed to respond, Castiel weighs his options in silence. There are tears in his eyes and he clenches his jaw tightly to hold them back. There’s just so much to process and yet… if he’s honest with himself, he had considered this option before, that they might find a way to free her from the curse even if it didn’t allow her to return to her physical form. It’s just hard to actually consider it now that he’s presented with the option.

Gabriel stands up and walks over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He offers the red book to him. Cas notices the bookmark coming out from between the pages through his wet eyelashes. 

“I made my peace with my choice so please don’t hold back on my account. The decision to use the spell or not is yours to make. If you want to keep trying, I’ll support you, baby bro. I’ll keep digging, I’ll keep researching, and I know dad will too.”

There’s a _but_ hanging in there, tacitly, unsaid; _but we’ve been trying for years and we’ve never come even close._ Castiel is perfectly aware that his brother wouldn’t be offering such a drastic option if he didn’t think it was the only one. 

“Think about it, okay?”

They could wait. They could research, read through every book in the bunker and also those of other bunkers, then more books his father could send them through friends… but there’s no promise that they’ll be successful in bringing her back to life and meanwhile she’s still there, trapped, sitting alone in the woods, more lonely than ever now that her son cannot visit her in a daily basis. Waiting would be selfish and perhaps even pointless. It tears him apart to be the cause of his mother’s definite death, but perhaps it is a more compassionate fate than what she’s going through now. She could rest, she could finally rest, and someday he will see her again. That’s the only thing keeping him from totally breaking down.

As Gabriel begins to walk away with the intention of giving him some space and time to consider the offer, Castiel jumps to his feet, gathering his courage and resolution before he can change his mind and with a shaky voice says, “okay, let’s do it.”

Standing next to him, Dean cautiously asks, “Cas, are you sure? Don’t you want to think about it?”

“If I think about it I’ll change my mind.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Gabriel points out.

“Yes, there is. She deserves to be free. She deserves peace. She saved us, all of us… it’s about time we return the favour. So let’s do it.”

Gabriel is somewhat taken aback by Castiel’s expectation to carry out the spell right away, but he doesn’t protest or ask for time. He’s apprehensive as he gathers the ingredients they’ll need for the spell, mostly lost in thought, but there doesn't seem to be any hesitation in the way he moves. If Castiel saw any he’d call the whole thing off because he knows just how much his magic means to Gabriel, that it is such a core part of who he is and his whole identity, and he would never force his brother to give it up. Instead he finds Gabriel in a position similar to his when Death asked him to make a choice in the garden; the uncertainty of the future weighs on him but there’s also hope in it, the promise that the unexpected might turn out amazing too and the feeling of empowerment and strength that comes from making tough and even painful decisions. He’s stepping into the unknown, hoping for something better, something new. It’s terrifying but he’s looking forward to it too.

“You’re going to make a good father, Gabe,” Castiel tells him as his brother puts all the ingredients inside a bowl.

Instead of coming up with a sassy or playful remark, Gabriel stops what he’s doing and looks over to him, then puts his arms around his brother without saying a word.

After giving his brother a moment to say goodbye to his familiar, the three of them and Castiel’s grandmother walk together in nervous silence towards the spot where Clarice’s statue sits alone in the woods. Gabriel takes a deep breath, nods to himself and crouches down to start mixing the ingredients properly. 

Dean squeezes Castiel’s hand. “You okay? You’re… kinda shaking.”

“Yes… I’m just… looking forward to seeing her.”

He doesn’t know that he will but he desperately hopes so, so that he can at least say goodbye to her (at least temporarily).

Sweetly, silently supporting Cas through this, Dean leans in to press a kiss to his cheek. He’s focused on both brothers, attentive to Castiel’s feelings but also aware that Gabriel will need help as soon as his magic is gone. He won’t be in the terrible shape Castiel was in when he lost his powers (it was a miracle that Cas even survived that, Gabriel spent days nursing him back to health and closing the stab wounds in his stomach that had reopened and left quite the ugly scars), but Dean still figures _something_ will happen to Gabe and he’ll be there to support his brother in law.

When everything is prepared and Gabriel has the green light to cast the spell, the boys hear him whisper to himself, “for Kali.”

There’s not a trace of uncertainty or doubt in Gabriel’s voice when he starts performing the spell. His voice is firm and clear, full of resolution. Dean and Castiel hold hands, anxious spectators of a life changing event for the Novaks. Cas glances over to his grandmother, who has her hands clasped together over his chest and so much hope in her eyes like he’s never seen before. His grandmother finds his eyes and smiles at him. It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen before, so joyful, radiant and full of life he forgets for a moment that she’s a ghost. However filled with sadness and desire to call the whole thing off and cry, he knows in that moment that he’s doing the right thing, that he _is_ reuniting a parent with a child, just not the way he always thought he would. He’s bringing closure to those who have suffered long enough and he cannot possibly regret that.

Gabriel throws the final ingredient into the bowl and flames erupt from it. A blinding light coming in the direction of the statue forces them to shut their eyes. The boys hear Gabriel groaning and hear him falling back into the cold ground, partially covered in snow. As soon as the light’s gone, Dean kneels next to him, checking that he’s fine; Gabriel seems a little out of it but alive and kicking.

Cas, on the other hand, only has eyes for the woman sitting on the bench in front of them. Gone is the statue and instead the clear image of his mother’s ghost sits there, blinking, confused, raising her arms to look at herself like she can’t believe her eyes. 

“Mom?” he croaks in a shaky voice.

The woman’s head shoots up and she looks straight at him. Something stirs in his stomach and tears roll down his cheeks against his will. She frowns, studying his strange yet familiar face before glancing at all the people around her. Cas can’t help the profound ache he feels when she doesn’t recognise him. When her eyes find her mother, she jumps to her feet and runs towards her.

“Mom!” she cries, throwing her arms around her in desperation, like she thought she might never get to again.

Castiel’s grandmother starts laughing and crying hysterically at the same time, holding back her daughter. “It’s me, baby, it’s me! I waited for you! I waited so long!”

They pull away from each other, still holding one another, both crying and laughing, overjoyed to be once more reunited after so long.

“Honey,” her grandmother says, pulling her daughter towards Cas, “honey, look here, look at Castiel, look how much he’s grown. He’s grown so handsome, your baby.”

“Castiel?” she repeats, a frown once again adorning her eternally young, beautiful face. She turns towards her son who simply waits, out of words and out of breath, bewitched by his mother’s presence, her voice, her sweet laughter, her kind smile, everything about her.

Her eyes quickly study him, more in detail this time. Her hands reach out to touch him and Cas inhales sharply, waiting to feel her fingertips in his face. When she touches him, he feels nothing but a strange shiver running down his spine and it breaks his heart a million times over. He’s going to have to wait longer to get a hug from her, but this… seeing her happy and free… it’ll have to be enough for now.

“Cas?” she asks again, as if to check it’s really him.

He does his best to smile and nods. After sniffling, he says, “It’s me, mom. I finally found a way to free you. Well, Gabriel did.”

Both of them look down at Gabriel who is leaning against Dean. He has a bloody nose, has become very pale in a matter of seconds and has an eye closed while he glances back at them like it pains him to keep even that one eye open.

“Good to see you again, Clarice,” he says in a croaked voice, saluting her with a simple movement of his hand like it’s not an extremely emotional moment he’s witnessing. 

Suddenly realizing who he is, the same young witch she met long ago only much older, she gasps and brings her hands to her hands. “How long have I been… _gone_?”

“Too long, mom,” Castiel responds.

With tears in her own eyes, she reaches out to him again, only to realize once more that she cannot touch him. She knows what she is and she doesn’t seem surprised by it as she had already accepted her death the day she betrayed her husband, but it kills her to be unable to comfort her child.

“Did it work?” she suddenly asks. “Did Mary close the door? Did the apocalypse—”

“No, mom, everything’s fine,” Castiel assures her with a brave smile. “Mary closed the door and stopped the murders. Dad’s fine too.”

This relieves her but the guilt is clear in her eyes. “I’m sorry, love, I’m sorry I left you.”

Castiel shakes his head, reaching out to grab her hands but stopping mid air. “I understand, it’s okay. We’ll be together again, one day but now… now you have to go.”

This agitates her.

“I don’t want to leave you!” 

Knowing what will happen if she stays, that it is no life to dwell in the mortal world once your time has passed, Castiel isn’t even tempted to convince her to stay just what she is now, a ghost.

“I’ll meet you again in Heaven, I promise. It’s real and that’s where I’ll go when I die, thanks to the spell you made.”

“But—”

“I want you to be free, I want you to have peace.”

Chest heaving, Clarice looks over to her mother—for support, for comfort, for advice. Her mother puts an arm around her and the other in her shoulder and says, “it’s okay, my love. He’s grown into such a strong man, he will be alright, my dear. Trust me when I say staying back might do more harm than good.”

“But who’s going to look after him?” she argues, fighting for a reason to stay.

Getting up to his feet again, Dean raises his hand awkwardly and says, “I will.”

“Who are— _Dean_? Oh, my! Look at you, how you’ve grown too!”

Dean gives her the most radiant of smiles even though he too has glassy eyes. He’s the warmest ray of sunshine in a bitterly cold December, a beacon of hope when Cas needs strength. “I’ll take care of Cas, ma’am. I promise. But you’ve gotta go and say hi to my mom for me, okay? Tell her we’re all good down here and just—just eager to see her again, when the time comes”

Clarice chokes up on a sob but laughs in the end. “I always knew you would, Dean.”

She gives him an affectionate smile before looking back at her son. Tears stream down his face as they near their goodbye. Cas knows she will make the right choice because she is the wisest and most amazing woman in the world, and whoever disagrees will have to fight him.

“Just promise me you’ll wait for me?” Castiel asks in a small voice, uselessly wiping the tears off his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Always, darling.”

Clarice’s mother grabs her hand and turns towards the woods. She doesn’t say anything and Castiel wouldn't know how she knows where to go, but it seems like she does. She finally looks happy and in peace, after so long, and though he’ll miss her and cry when she’s gone, a weight lifts off his shoulders knowing she’s going to be a better place and leading Clarice there as well.

“Thank you,” Clarice tells them, “thank you all.”

Gabriel tiredly waves a hand in her direction while Castiel can do nothing but watch her go, holding Dean’s hand so tightly he might break it but Dean lets him without uttering a single word of discomfort. The two women walk away, Clarice glancing back only one more time to smile at her son before they both finally look forward and disappear. 

As sad as he is, as uncontrollably as his tears roll down his cheeks, Cas feels it, that closure he always wanted, even though it’s not an ending. No more pending promises to keep, no more unfinished business, just the future ahead and time to heal. 

Silently, Dean puts an arm around his shoulder and presses their temples together before giving him another kiss in the cheek.

“You did the right thing, Cas,” he whispers gently next to his ear. “You okay, sweetheart?”

Surprisingly, he responds, “yes… yes, I will be.”

The two young men help Gabriel back into the house and put him to bed. Gabe falls asleep almost immediately, then Dean phones Kali who rushes to the house to take care of her partner. Dean gives Castiel some space and goes downstairs to make dinner for all of them. The house is quiet, definitely still alive and haunted, but it’s like it knows something’s changed, it knows a bit of the magic has been lost and it needs to be more careful with the people who live in it now. It’s not entirely a bad thing, he thinks. Life doesn’t stop being exciting because there’s less magic in it. With Cas by his side, life has never seen more amazing and worth living.

Dean takes two plates to Gabriel’s bedroom and two to Castiel’s. They’re kind of quiet over dinner and they lay down pretty early. Seir hangs close to them, nesting over a pillow by the headboard. For a while Dean just holds Cas in silence, making sure he showers his boyfriend in affection; kissing his forehead, his nose, cheeks, and running his hands up and down his back and arms while Cas lays his head on Dean’s chest... Cas has stopped crying and now complains he has a headache from crying, which is annoying and oh so human, something that Dean takes as a sign that he is doing fine, he’s coping.

“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Castiel says after a while. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

Dean pulls him impossibly closer. “I know… I’m sorry, Cas.”

“No… no, I didn't mean it in a bad way. It’s just… my entire life I’ve been trying to save her. And to solve the mystery of the door to Hell and the murders and everything… And now it’s just… over. All of it. It’s quite odd, like I reached the ending of a story. It’s just over, there’s nothing more to it.”

Dean tries to assess his mood but Castiel’s blue eyes betray nothing. He seems calm, surprisingly so considering the events of that day, as if he had run out of tears and now he is just wondering what to do next.

“Is that bad?” Dean asks, shrugging with one arm. He doesn’t want to be a dick but if someone asks him, knowing what he does about the future, he’s pretty excited for it. Happiness is just around the corner and Cas is going to be there with him every day for it.

Castiel considers his question and eventually smiles. He leans in to kiss Dean, lingering in the kiss without a hurry before he pulls away to respond. 

“No. No, I guess we’ll just start a new journey together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and to whoever left comments, I appreciate that!  
> I had so much fun writing this though, I wrote this and edited and posted this for me first, I love seeing it all coming together and done, but I love sharing it with you too.  
> I hope you enjoyed it!  
> HAPPY HALLOWEEN!


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